To Be Humble
by Hragon
Summary: Rayquaza has become corrupt through its power and as punishment it is reduced by Ho-Oh to a mere Bagon. Rated only to be safe. Please read and review. Ch. 11: Apology up!
1. The Challenge

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

* * *

I love the smoke that rises in plumes, both black and red-orange in the glow of fire. I love screams that are torn from throats for the final time. The crumbling buildings. The machines that spout water to quiet the flames, but the flames only roar louder, unconquerable.

I drink in every moment.

I love the smell of burning, of ashes, of years of pointless progress gone up in fire. I savor the look of terror on the human's faces when in the night my form is outlined by flames against columns of smoke. Their shrieks are music, sweet music. The more they fight me, the more lives I take, for I am indestructible.

Invincible.

* * *

I flew through the air, relishing the wind on my face and the feel of my body in flight. So sinuous, so . . . graceful. Yet more powerful than any creature, for no creature of mankind, otherworld, Pokemon, or otherwise, has the strength I have bestowed upon myself. Of this I am certain. I coiled my body, twisting and turning in the air, testing my flexibility. It knew no bounds.

Among humans I am known as Rayquaza. Human carvings in the walls of caves depict me as a fearsome beast; uncontrolled, mighty, man-eating and war-thirsty; He of Bloodied Fangs and Quaker of the Earth. A serpent with razor-sharp teeth and flashing claws that with a single roar can call for the heavens to downpour and flood whole cities.

To them I am Destroyer. And rightly so.

For who can stand up to me? No Pokemon that has ever challenged me has emerged victorious. Only a sparse, worthy few were able to escape with their lives. I am millions of years old. I have seen things that no other creature has seen. Both my age and experience are reflected in my worn, hardened scales; my claws sharp enough to pierce stone; my fangs that can reduce boulders to no more than rubble.

One foolish species, however, believes that they can control me. To tame me. My maw opened wide, and the very air around me vibrated as I laughed.

Humans.

I think two things when that word is spoken, mentally or otherwise.

First, I think of selfish destroyers. Humans have taken land and twisted it to fit their dreams of horror. Only the skies, _my_ territory, are free from their grasps, for no one dares to challenge _me_!

And at this I roared with pride. I roared so loudly, a terrific, awe-inspiring resonance that started deep in my throat and worked its way up to a scream, that the mountains miles upon miles away shook and trembled and echoed my call among their walls.

Secondly, I think of cowards. Weaklings. How such a pointless species came to be is beyond even my imagination. Their power comes from those that they subdue: Pokemon. Humans challenge my power. They deserve to die, just as the Pokemon that are weak enough to be subdued by them. Any Pokemon that joins on the side of humans (for reasons that I have pondered why for millions of years, and am still pondering) challenges my power also. I never back down from a challenge. And anything that challenges me will die, and die fantastically.

I saw through the clouds the farm that I have been visiting.

Many, many moons ago, I lived off of the particles in the air, in the sky, only rarely coming down to hunt for food with more substance if I needed it. Then I decided that such a great beast as I should not live in such a way; it is degrading to live a life supported by such miniscule particles. I needed something of mass that could not only satiate my hunger, but could allow me to live up to the fear and danger associated with my name. So I began to hunt meat.

This particular farm has been fruitful. I have visited it for many moons and find the Grumpig to be fat and satisfying. The human owner harbors deep hatred for me because I have been feeding off of its Grumpig clan. This does not bother me, for I hate it as well. I had, at first, considered devouring the human as well, but I decided against it. Someday, yes. But for now, he could do nothing to stop me from feeding off of his Grumpig, and I supposed I could keep him alive because he kept the pig Pokemon large and filling and fit to eat.

I was due now for another feeding.

I angled my body downwards, towards the farm. While descending, I picked out the Grumpig that would serve as my meal: the leader of the flock. The human was especially close to that one—apparently it was its favorite, its "partner" Pokemon, as they call it. His "starter". That particular Grumpig had been kept inside during my other visits and, unwilling to waste my power on such a thing, I simply picked off of the others. It will be amusing to see how the human reacts to my devouring his favorite, most treasured Pokemon. I have not burned a town in long while—five human days, I suppose, if you demand an exact time—and I could use amusement.

The flock scuttled apart as I landed on my two forelegs in the middle of the field. I roared, taking pleasure in their frantic baying. While the others ran away in all directions, I bolted towards my target. It only had time to unleash one, blood-curdling scream before I was upon it. I silenced it.

The scream continued, however, from behind me. I turned around to see the human owner, his face frozen with a contortion of the emotions I have observed to be fury and grief. The intensity of his emotion startled me, I will admit, because I had only ever seen such passion when I killed a relation to a family. It puzzles me. Humans, and Pokemon also, cry for their lost homes that I burn, but they cry in a completely different way when a relation or some sort of living thing loses its life.

. . . why? Both are things they have earthly attachments to. Why do their reactions to the items lost vary from one object to another?

After millions of years, this question still befuddles me.

Suddenly a whirring noise came to my ears. I spun around to take a look and to see what it was. A large human machine with blades that sliced through the air, giving them flight. It was enormous, much larger than I, which angered me. It had two metal forelegs with a strange beam between them. The air around that beam seemed to be still.

I growled and released the dead Grumpig. It thudded to the ground and the farmer, with a strange wetness on his cheeks, rushed out to mourn it. Flight was a gift bestowed only upon the elite. These fools did not deserve it!

Somehow I blamed the human farmer for the newcomers. He was human, after all, and so were they. Enraged that my feast had been interrupted, I blamed him blindly, ignoring the fact that the chance they were familiar with each other was slim. What's the point in thinking it through? A chance to destroy was but another chance to show my strength.

I opened my maw and blasted its house. Splinters of wood were tossed everywhere. Because it was pleasurable—fun—I released a beam of energy in a wide circle around me to bring the rest of the flock to an end. Wherever it missed a Grumpig, it hit the ground and began a fire. They ran around wildly, shrieking madly, but in moments they were no more but shadows consumed by flame. The human farmer cried out, but the flames consumed him, too. He roared in agony and collapsed beside his fallen partner.

Content that he was destroyed, I turned to focus my attention on the newcomers but was too late. A wave of energy swept over me. Some invisible force too strong to break was holding me. I was frozen in the air, suspended, between the two metal forelegs from the machine. The beam between them paralyzed me, held me in place.

I tried to scream but no sound tore from my throat. My heart beat faster and seemed to clench and unclench wildly in my chest. Was this the emotion humans called . . . fear?

But I cannot be afraid!

As the beam held me I began to lose energy. My limbs grew heavy. I couldn't shake free and my attempts grew ever weaker. No. I couldn't be subdued this easily! I wouldn't!

Despite my defiance, my attempts to free myself were pathetic. My energy was completely zapped. I could no longer support my head. I hung limply in the beam's grasp. The strength it took to lift a single claw made my vision fade and flicker.

I was being defeated.

_No . . ._

_NO!_

I would not lose; they would not take me and taste victory. If anything, this would end in a draw. Both sides may be killed, but I refuse to accept defeat.

I prepared a pulsing form of energy in my jaws and lifted my head to aim. My head pounded; my vision flickered; my eyes couldn't focus. I managed to find the window in which the humans were sitting and unleashed my attack.

I only had time to see it slice the machine in half, and then everything went still and black.

* * *

When my eyes flickered open, I didn't recognize where I was at first. Then I looked down from where I was floating and saw the charred ground, the broken human machine sliced in two halves, and the bodies of the human farmer and Grumpig.

There were two things, however, that I found disturbing.

Firstly, I was floating. Not flying. Floating. And I wasn't in control of it. If I tried to move left or right or anywhere, whatever force that allowed me to float wouldn't respond.

Secondly, there was an outline on the ground that looked like my body. If that was my body, I wasn't in it.

"I hope you are pleased with yourself."

I craned my head around. Behind me was a fiery bird of several colors.

"I am Ho-Oh," it told me.

My eyes narrowed. Its tone suggested that it was one of power that could challenge my own.

It nodded towards the ground. "You are dying."

This shocked me. I had seen it as a definite possibility in attacking the machine, but the news still left me tongue-tied.

"The humans in the machine wanted to capture you—they knew that you visited that farm often and were lying in wait for you. When you destroyed the machine they lost control, and the overload was too much for you to handle."

I was barely listening. Only the word "defeated, defeated, defeated" were able to pierce my mind.

The bird studied me and sighed. "There is only one of you, Rayquaza. You are lord of the skies. You are the very embodiment of the skies."

My lip curled. It's tone suggested that it believed it was equal to me. I didn't like that.

Ho-Oh was examining the remains of the battle below sadly. "I was gifted at the beginning of time with the ability to resurrect the dead. I rarely use that gift. It must be used sparingly and only when needed desperately. I suppose that this would be a time that I need to."

I glared at the bird and lifted my head higher. "I don't need any charity," I growled. I would not be dependent upon this bird. "I refuse to be in debt to you."

"Would you rather die knowing you were killed by humans?"

I snapped my mouth shut. Being killed at all was such an immensely horrifying thing. It said that even after all of my years of survival and experience, I was still inferior to those that had only lived and learned a mere fraction of what I have.

"The problem," Ho-Oh mused, "is that if I don't bring you back, who knows what would happen? If chaos ensues, there won't be an entity powerful enough to stop it."

I waited.

"But," Ho-Oh continued, "if I do bring you back, chaos will ensue because you will be the cause of it."

"Pardon?" I snarled. I didn't like that I had to be reincarnated by this lesser power. But now what was it saying??

"You've become corrupt with your power, Rayquaza," Ho-oh said seriously. "You don't bring stability or balance when it is needed any longer like you've done for millennia; you either destroy it or choose to ignore others that are destroying it. You take pleasure in destruction because in causing it you use your power. You enjoy marveling your strength."

"I don't understand," I growled. I understood perfectly, but I refused to believe it. This bird was crazy, I decided.

"Let's take a look at all the lives you've taken." The air shimmered behind Ho-Oh; it glided out of the way. In that area of the air, different scenes came into view. A newlywed couple drowning on a sinking ship, trapped in their flooded room because of a hole blasted in the the wall of the ship. At first I didn't remember that particular instance, but it came to me after a bit. I had been flying over the ocean, spotted the human cruise ship, and blasted a few holes in it before being on my merry way. "What was the reason behind this attack?"

I squinted, trying to remember my motives. "I can't remember."

"Can't remember, or didn't have one in the first place?" Ho-Oh said darkly. "Everyone on that ship drowned that day. The holes you blasted made the ship sink in minutes. Hundreds of lost lives for no apparent reason other than the fact that you were bored." The air shimmered again. A burning city; flaming buildings crumbling like dust; frantic people aflame. "And this?"

It continued on and on like that. A scene of destruction that I had created, followed by me confessing that I hadn't done it for any particular reason. Cars wrecked, banged, and dented beyond recognition from me throwing them down the street, a young boy not yet six years old cowering in a corner watching as his parents were torn to shreds, hikers on mountains thrown to their deaths as I banged on the wall of the mountain; tsunamis, volcanoes, and earthquakes, all triggered by my power; the faces of those that had been starved of food and water when I made the weather too hot for crops and those that had been drowned when I made the rain pour. These were only a few of the hundreds Ho-Oh forced me to look at, and hundreds of times I repeated my answer: "I can't remember . . . I can't remember."

Finally the images stopped and Ho-Oh tilted its head, scowling. "Do you not care?"

"NO!" I screamed. I opened my mouth to fire an attack at the bird, but nothing came out. I roared in frustration.

Ho-Oh sighed as I continued to roar and scream like a petulant child. "Your soul is corrupted far worse than I originally thought."

"Are you going to bring me back or not?" I screamed.

"Yes. I am." Ho-Oh looked at me, a gleam forming in its eye that immediately made me shut my mouth. "But first we must eliminate the sources of your corruption. You feel no emotion." It got a ponderous look on its face. "Many legendaries have limited emotions because they separate themselves from most of the world. But you, Rayquaza, have isolated yourself in the sky for millions of years, and have developed a cold, selfish, egotistic and power-hungry heart as a result."

Ho-Oh seemed to smile, although this was only an impression because of its beak. It made me wary. "You, Rayquaza, must become humble."

"How do you intend to do that?" I demanded, more out of confusion and surprise than anything, but I was jerked backwards, being dragged by an unseen force back to earth. I extended my neck and snapped at the bird's feathers, but Ho-Oh disappeared. Looking down, I saw my body on the ground evaporate and be replaced with a much smaller form. I was sucked into it.

Shaking my head, I grumbled to myself. It took several moments for my head to stop spinning and for me to be able to more clearly see my surroundings. Ho-Oh was a fool. What did it think bringing me back would do? Was it really stupid enough to believe that if I was in debt to it, I would become "humble"? I snorted with amusement. Well, if that was the case, Ho-Oh would be sorely disappointed.

I stood up.

_Stood?_

I had time only to think that thought before I fell over. I screamed, but the scream was completely devoid of the terrible rage it used to be filled with. It sounded . . . and I loathe to say this, but it sounded . . . cute.

There was a pond three feet away. I hauled myself over to it with my two chubby, short forelegs to get a look at myself: a miniscule blue dragon with a silver, ridged head, and a yellow underbelly.

Looking back at me out of the pond, was a Bagon.


	2. The Chase

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series or any of its content.**

* * *

I stared at the Bagon in disbelief and frantically inspected the pond. This couldn't be true. I wasn't a Bagon! I was Rayquaza! Not this miniscule dragon staring at me with wide, young-ish eyes out of the pond.

Where was my body!

I craned my head to look behind me as if my surroundings somehow held the answer, but the field looked exactly the same. The Grumpig and Human Death Machine were exactly where I'd left them.

I turned back to the pond, dumbfounded, blinking at my reflection as if this horror would simply evaporate if I closed my eyes hard enough. It didn't.

I was lying on the thing's belly, as I had never stood up before and was unsure of how to move the legs. I crawled forward to see if I couldn't look more closely at the creature staring at me out of the pond. But I slipped and fell into the pool.

The water rushed up around me. Unconcerned, I squirmed my body to wriggle to the surface. But this body wouldn't move as mine would. It was too stiff. Instinctively, I waved the arms madly, but I continued to sink. And then, also on impulse, the mouth opened and inhaled and water poured into the lungs. I choked. My eyes widened in surprise. Before, I could hold my breath underwater for ten minutes at a time; why was I now so short on air so quickly?

Talons wrapped themselves around the body and hauled me back up through the water, depositing me in the grass.

Shaking the head free of water, I looked up to see Ho-Oh towering above me. Its head was tilted in amusement as it observed my current state.

Such fury bubbled inside of me that I could not channel it into words and spluttered.

"I do say, this worked better than I had imagined." Ho-Oh bent itself over to further examine me. Unable to use the legs to run effectively, I could do nothing but sit and glare at it, seething with so much fury that saliva drooled maddeningly out of my mouth. I snapped at its beak, but it kept its head just out of my reach. "I haven't reincarnated a Pokemon as another species since the resurrection of Entei, Suicune, and Raikou. I thought I may be a bit out of practice."

I was unaware of this "Enteisuicuneandraikou", so I assumed it must be in a different region. It was only after a moment that I realized Entei, Suicune, and Raikou had been listed by Ho-Oh as three separate beings rather than the name of a single Pokemon. To punish myself for my ignorance I dug the head into the ground as if this would grate any and all simplistic thoughts from my mind. But when I pulled my head free I felt no different. Why were my thoughts so elementary?

Ho-Oh pecked the Bagon belly lightly but withdrew before I could swipe at it. I bared the teeth, tiny fangs though they were, and remained with muscles locked, daring the bird to touch me again.

"That ring should not be present. No matter, though. It makes no difference."

I glanced down to see what it was talking about. There was a faint bright-yellow ring on the chest, just above the yellow belly. It looked much like the rings that had adorned my true body.

"Why are you here?" I demanded angrily, snapping the head up to stare into the bird's eyes. This was difficult to do because it towered ten feet above my height. My skin boiled with frustration; before I had towered ten feet above its height. Now I had to crane my head back so far to see its face that I fell over backwards. I let out an agitated cry when I couldn't regain my balance and thrashed the forelegs about, connecting harshly with a nearby rock. It hurt. In surprise, I paused, and held up the foreleg to inspect it. A drop of red fell from the foreleg. Curious as to what it was, I watched as the ground soaked it up. It was a moment before I figured out what the substance was; I have seen it but never actually felt it myself.

"Be careful!" Ho-Oh barked. I puffed out the chest; how dare he chide me! "Your mind may be millions of years old, but your body is not!"

"What do you mean?" I snarled.

Finally it gave me a straight answer: "I traded your body for that of a newborn Bagon's."

First my tongue felt useless in my mouth and I stuttered until I could finally form coherent words. "You traded _my_ body?" I cried. "Where is it now, what did you do with it? Am I in _something_ _else's_ body?" By now I was screeching. My voice no longer held the terrific thunder that it once had and merely squeaked, and I stamped the ground impatiently in my increasing frustration.

"You're not in someone else's body," Ho-Oh snapped. The hardness that had been in its eyes disappeared and they filled with what I knew to be sadness—similar to how humans and Pokemon react when something living is lost. "It didn't live past a minute; the climate it was in was too poor for it to survive outside of the egg. It died so quickly that there was no time for a soul to claim it." Ho-Oh shook its head and the hardness returned. "Why it didn't survive is unimportant. The fact is that you are the first to truly occupy this body; therefore it is fully and completely yours. Enjoy," it added sarcastically.

I felt awful. Cold. Frozen. For the first time, I wasn't in control of my actions or future. This . . . this _bird_ was.

I kept my voice as cold and hard as I could so as not to betray weakness. "Why are you doing this? And where is my true body?" Why was I in the body of a young, weak Bagon, rather than the body of an experienced, strong one? Why was I in the body of a Bagon at all?

"_This_ is your true body now," was all Ho-Oh replied, diving its beak towards my Bagon self in gesture.

I grit my teeth, working my jaw as I stared up at the bird. I looked down at myself for a split second and back up, and made my decision. "I refuse it."

"Pardon?"

"I refuse it. Take it back," I snarled. "I don't want it. I refuse to be in debt to you. I refuse to be a mere Bagon, and a baby one at that. I am Rayquaza, I am millions upon millions of years old. I don't want it."

Ho-Oh's looked at me coldly but did not answer. Its look said everything: That this time, it wasn't up to me.

We stared at each other in silent contest, each willing the other to give in to one's wish. But I was at disadvantage. The bird was in control and it knew it. This knowledge was horrible. I hated not having control in my claws. To have it was reassuring, made me feel powerful . . . without control, was I nothing?

No.

I banished such thoughts from my mind immediately, for I am Rayquaza.

Suddenly Ho-Oh's head snapped up and it looked over its wing towards the Human Death Machine. "Someone's stirring," it mumbled, narrowing its eyes.

I squinted, but my fine eyesight had gone. Looking at something so far away strained my eyes. I blinked and continued staring, but saw nothing. I have come to the conclusion at this point that the bird was insane.

Ho-Oh half turned towards the Human Death Machine. Its feathers were ruffled. "One of them has seen you."

I didn't care, and opened my mouth to say so but was told to shush by the bird. "I will not answer to you!" I protested indignantly, my lip curling.

It ignored me, still studying the machine and whatever humans were inside of it. "We need to get you out of the field as soon as possible, but—" It turned to glare at me, "—this will be the final service that I do for you. You are undeserving. Stay here." It spread its wings and took flight to the air, soaring away quickly on the breeze.

"I do not answer to you!" I screamed after it, even though I had no choice for even I do not know how to walk on hind feet. The very idea is ridiculous, especially when, for my movement, I depend solely upon flight.

_Flight_.

The realization was like a blow that knocked the air out of me. I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't fly.

A breeze was rolling across the field, ruffling the grass around me. The grass so high that I could hardly see outside of the green stalks. The only thing I could see clearly if I tried was the sky, which was thousands upon thousands of feet above me. And I had no way to reach it. Something in my chest seemed to swell painfully.

Flight, for me, is like breathing. It just comes so naturally, and one doesn't truly miss it until it's gone. The thing in my chest swelled and clenched again. I couldn't believe it. The one thing I had cared about, the one thing I had ever relied on for life, was gone.

Unwilling to sit down and do nothing, I tried to stand up and walk. I managed to stand up for several moments without falling over but did, eventually, tumble. I tried again and managed to take a step, but the body was so out of proportion that I fell head-over-heels. I tried again but that was the most progress I could make. Finally my feet got so tangled up together that when I fell down I couldn't summon the will to get back up.

I bowed my head and stared at my stubby forelegs, and I noticed for the first time exactly what they were: stubs. They didn't even have claws.

I stuck my feet out in front of me to see that they didn't have distinguished claws, either. Just two long, flat feet divided into two toes.

I was no longer a Earth-Quaker or He of Bloodied Fangs. There was nothing about my new Bagon form that even hinted that I had once held those titles: no claws, no teeth, no power or control of my own actions. Something—some kind of emotion—swelled up inside of me so unexpectedly that my eyes burned and everything became blurry. It felt funny and I didn't like it, it felt weak, so I rubbed my eyes with my stubby forelegs and in a moment the feeling had passed.

Fifteen minutes went by, though I barely acknowledged it. I sat with my head hung, glaring all around me at the carcasses and the littered parts of the Human Death Machine. My eyes finally came to rest on the pond. The water looked all too welcoming. I pondered the pool for a moment.

I could jump back into the water and end this life before it began. My, how tempting that was. Just to jump in and let it all be over . . . but I couldn't. Not now. That is giving up, and giving up is weak.

But is giving up better than letting my life be controlled by a bird?

As I was contemplating leaping back into the pond rather than live this new, horrible life, something thudded on the ground behind me. I turned to see a leaf-covered Pokemon decorated with fruit. A Tropius.

It folded its legs underneath it, signaling that I was to get on. I simply sat where I was, glaring at it. It looked around, trying to conceal its horror as its eyes fell on the dead Grumpig and human farmer. It closed its eyes and it was several moments before it regained control of itself. I took this show of emotion as weakness and immediately felt despise for the scum.

"I am instructed to take you away from this field as soon as possible," the Tropius explained. It didn't meet my eyes and rather looked ahead of it with an air of patience, which made me raise my head a bit. This creature knew its place, at least.

I was content that, the way it did not stare into my eyes, it did not think itself my equal. And also it was not forcing me to climb onto it or carrying me—it was my decision and if I were to comply I would be riding _on top _of it, not dangling from its teeth, or talons.

Even so, I was still moody as I climbed onto its back. Being carried was humiliating. It didn't help that climbing onto its back was difficult in and of itself because for some reason, Bagon weigh close to a hundred pounds despite the fact that they're only two feet tall.

The Tropius swung its head around next to me, still avoiding eye contact. I stared at it curiously. What was it trying to do? After a few moments it said patiently, "You may eat if you wish so."

I glared at it. "Eat what?" There was nothing edible unless it was referring to itself. Then I remembered that fruit was food as well as meat. My eyes narrowed. How dare it offend me by offering me food when I will get it myself, and mere fruit at that! I spat at its face in answer.

The Tropius pulled its head away passively and stood back up, spreading its leafy wings. Its patience puzzled me. Metal clanged against the ground and both of our heads turned to look at the Human Death Machine. One of the doors had fallen open and the humans were beginning to jump out.

Fury rose inside of me and I momentarily forgot what I now was; I began to climb back off to kill every single one of those blasted humans—not only was it their fault that I was in this body, but I never leave a job undone; no one survives me!

But the Tropius was faster. Before I could jump off it leaped into the sky. Instinctively I dug my forelegs into the leafy substance on its back. This was difficult to do without claws, but I managed to keep a firm hold. The Tropius flapped its wings, rising higher into the sky, and the humans and their Death Machine were left behind.

I momentarily forgot everything, relishing the wind on my face. I felt as if I had not flown in ages. But it was spoiled by the fact that I was not alone. Flying was solitude. With a sigh, I dropped my head and fell to wondering why Ho-Oh had chosen the body of a baby for me rather than a strong adult. I thought about asking the Tropius—it had obviously talked to the bird; maybe it knew something. But I'd never relied on anything before, and I wasn't about to start relying on things for answers. I sat squirming in my seat for several minutes, torn between finding answers and refusing help that I didn't want.

The Tropius sensed my squirming and twisted its head around to see me. It spoke slowly and thoughtfully, as if choosing its words carefully. "Ho—the bird mentioned to me what had happened."

There was no pity in its voice and it didn't call Ho-Oh by name. Both of these things pleased me, so I graced it by listening.

"I doubt it wanted me to explain the details to you, but I knew that you might be puzzled as to why you are in the body of a baby Bagon, of all ages it could have been."

"I'm not puzzled," I growled. "I am millions of years old. Nothing puzzles me." I knew that this wasn't entirely true, but it obviously knew things that I didn't and that fact was displeasing to me.

"Of course," the Tropius agreed patiently. It was silent for a few moments and then continued on. "You are a baby Bagon for a reason. What do you think that reason may be?"

I suspected it was either for further punishment on my part or for Ho-Oh's enjoyment, and said so.

"What is the difference between adults and young?" the Tropius asked.

"Adults are strong and experienced," I grumbled irritably.

"And young have much to learn," Tropius said. "They are more easily molded and taught things new to them than adults."

I scowled and opened my mouth to demand how this applied to me, but was interrupted by a screech from behind us. We turned around to see two Pokemon: a Crobat and Skarmory. Both were mean-looking, and both were following us. Not just following, but gaining quickly.

Tropius immediately sped up its flight. Instinctually, as a baby Bagon, my heart began to beat faster because I knew something was wrong. The Tropius was managing to stay calm but I could feel its large heart beat more quickly underneath me.

"See that forest?" it called back to me. I was surprised at the sharpness in its voice and too confused to snap back at it. Instead I looked ahead, where trees stretched as far as the eye could see starting approximately a mile away. "I'm going to drop you off in there. Hide yourself." Before I could demand in frustration what was going on, it added, "Those are the Pokemon of the people who were trying to capture you."

I wanted to demand what they wanted with me, but I had already relied too much on this Pokemon for information.

The two Pokemon were gaining on us quickly but it was apparent that Tropius could not fly any faster. It was maddening, being trapped on its back and unable to fly when I knew that I could out-fly the three of them combined . . . with my lost body.

The line of trees seemed to be coming at us slowly; I felt as if we were wading through water. The two Pokemon were but a hundred yards behind us. Their screeches and screams of rage filled my ears and I tried to answer their call, but my roar came out as a pitiful Bagon wail.

Finally the forest was near us, but Tropius knew it had to buy more time if we were to escape. It spun around in the air and fired a serious of Razor Leaves. Caught off-guard, the enemy Pokemon were forced to either dodge or be buffeted by the storm of leaves. This hindered them a bit and Tropius, with a last surge of strength, dove down towards the forest.

I was hanging on with my clawless forelegs as if my life depended on it (and it probably did). I had to squint to be able to see anything because of the wind in my eyes like daggers. The ground was rising up to meet us and I braced myself for impact when Tropius landed.

To my surprise, it didn't land, but flipped upside-down. My stubs had no hold on it and I fell.

As I fell through the air, I saw Tropius return to the sky and fire another attack. The Skarmory and Crobat, apparently, were too busy warding off this attack to see me falling. Consequently when Tropius continued flying away, they chased after it, still thinking that I was on its back. That was all I saw before I hit the trees.

Several branches whopped me disrespectfully in the face as I fell through them. I couldn't see anything through all the green. Several "Mph!"s and "Agh!"s escaped me.

And then I was out of the trees and seconds later I was in a pile of leaves.

I sat up and spat a leaf distastefully out of my mouth. After the excitement the silence felt deafening in my ears. It was dusk; night was falling. Nothing stirred in the forest.

My stomach rumbled, a feeling I was unused to. It was painful. Was that what creatures usually felt when they hungered? I doubled over with my stubby forelegs caressing my growling belly.

It was then that something yellow amid the green of the leaves caught my eye. A banana, from Tropius' chin.

I stared at it for a few moments in dismal surprise. Then, after making sure that no one was watching, I hesitantly outstretched my foreleg, and took it.


	3. Rage

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

* * *

A week.

That's how long I've been here and I'm still not a master of walking.

A_ week_.

But I'm mobile now. As soon as I could walk at least a little I began to try to find a way out of this forest. There was no point in me staying here and besides, I didn't like it. The sky is hardly visible through the trees.

Unfortunately, my walking is still but a bit more than a waddle and I cannot yet run effectively. It's difficult and every time I take a step I feel a wail creeping up my throat to cry. But this would be undignified, so I swallow the wail and keep on trudging with the thing in my chest heavy enough to sink into the ground. I cling to the fact that I can still learn to fly. Other Pokemon can fly, after all, or float in the air without wings. Why not me?

As for "food" in the forest, the only thing seems to be fruit. I've searched far and wide for something edible, but I can never catch a good meal; they hear me crunching through the undergrowth trying to sneak up on them long before I can pounce. The creatures I have targeted several times already don't even run away anymore until I'm a foot away because they seem to think they have no need to worry. Ha. They'll see. They have plenty to worry about and I swear that every one of them will pay for such insolence.

After trying to steal a few eggs and such—and being chased away by the parents—my growling, baby tummy forced me to gather some berries at least until I can master hunger. I hope to master it soon because my mouth and teeth have begun to ache for something hard to chew. I believe it is because the fruit is so mushy.

* * *

"Rarw!" I crashed into a tree and bark flew.

I was boiling. Why, I wasn't quite sure, but I was seething. I remember only finding a clearing with fewer trees and looking up at the sky for the first time in a week, and seeing it high above the treetops. The trees themselves were many times the size of me and that had made me realize how pathetic it was for me to believe that I could still fly to such heights. But now determination raged like a fire within me. I had never doubted my ability before and I wouldn't start now.

I would fly.

Shaking my head, I geared myself for another try. I climbed atop the towering boulder I had found and stood at the precipice, about five feet above the ground.

I narrowed my eyes in concentration and tried to summon the power of flight. But my mind remained blank. I couldn't remember all exactly what I had thought while I was flying before. I didn't recollect if I had thought anything because it had seemed so natural.

I tensed my muscles for the jump, coiling my hind legs and placing my forelegs on the rock for balance. I almost slipped when my stubby arms slid on the rock; I still couldn't get used to not having claws. Then I jumped.

For a moment I felt like I was airborne. A shiver rolled down my spine as the feeling of flight washed over me. I was soaring, defying gravity and this Bagon curse.

And then I began to fall. Frantically, I began to swing my forelegs as if I could ferry enough air underneath me to push me back up. Needless to say, I landed on the ground.

"Rrrggghh!" I growled in frustration, nailing the tree. The place on the tree where I had tackled it over and over again had lost so much bark that the white layers were showing through. The white under-part of the tree didn't have the satisfying _crunch_that the bark did when I hit it, so I targeted a different portion and hit that. I butted my head against it until even my rock-hard Bagon head was spinning and then, grumbling, I climbed back onto the rock. Another jump, another failed attempt, and another round of attacking the tree.

"So you are the Bagon of the Yellow Ring. My, you _are _an oddity," a Swellow observed. It looked down a tree at me from its perch among the lower branches.

I took no notice of the newcomer and returned to my rock.

"Word has spread about a Bagon in the woods, you know," it chirped happily. "My, my, my, but I didn't believe it, no I didn't. Bagon don't come to these parts, you know. No, no, no, they don't. But here you are. Yes, yes, here you are."

I leaped off of the rock again, but with the same result that I'd had for the last hundred or so attempts. Scowling and boiling over inside with frustration, I rammed into the tree with all my force. It shook slightly but the Swellow didn't seem concerned. I had to grate my head against the trunk before most of my anger had dissipated, and then I repeated the process. No luck.

"My, my, you walk very funnily!" The Swellow's chirping was incessant. "That is very strange, yes indeed. Most Pokemon can walk straight out of the egg." It cocked its head at me as if awaiting an answer, but it wouldn't get one. I wasn't paying attention to it as it was. It was a _Swellow_, after all. I am Rayquaza. I have no need to talk to such an insignificant creature. In fact, under normal circumstances I would have simply blasted it out of the tree without a second thought for daring to even look at me. But, without having any blasting power, I must admit it was annoying.

I landed on the ground and sprang up to tackle the tree yet again, but I was growing tired. That's another thing that annoys me: hunger and fatigue are both greedy, energy-drinking forces when they hit, and they come all too quickly in this new body. Why, I used to only eat a good meal once every few weeks. I don't even know when I used to sleep. Curse this weakling body!

"Are you, perchance, trying to fly?" the Swellow inquired while I went through another failed attempt. Still, I didn't answer. Now it didn't even seem to care for one, which was more annoying than it expecting one. It almost made me feel like it wasn't aware of whether I was there or not. Like it didn't notice me. Or fear me.

"Well, the first trick is to have wings," it said as if this was the answer to all that I had been searching for—like, Why by all the stars in the sky _am I a Bagon_! Gritting my teeth because I reminded myself that I should not bother with a creature of this stature, I—_again_—boarded the rock.

"The second trick," the Swellow continued, "is to have a weight within the flight range of the size of your wings." It squinted at me. "Well by my feathers, you've the biggest head I've ever seen. Try losing some weight from that and then try again."

After I jumped from the rock I hit my head against the tree about ten times harder to transfer my anger from my body to the bark, but the affect was beginning to wear off. As the chatter refused to stop I found myself wishing dearly that I could shoot something, anything out of my mouth that would make it fly from my sight. Baring my tiny teeth, I fell to all fours—as awkward as that was, I was too full of fury to notice—and paced around the tree. I wanted this bird to leave, and I wanted it to leave _now_.

"Bird," I growled, trying my best to make a baby Bagon's squeaky voice sound fearsome, "this is my clearing. You are not welcome here."

The Swellow tilted its head and stared down at me as if amused. It made no move to leave the tree.

"Are you listening to me!" I barked. I jumped up and down, waving my forelegs frantically as if I could shoo it away. It simply settled itself more comfortably on the branch. I hurled insults at it and my voice grew steadily more and more high-pitched and frantic as I saw that I could do nothing to move it.

I screeched and leapt to the boulder and then, fueled by my rage, I used the extra momentum to jump up to the Swellow. I opened my mouth to take a whopping bite out of it—the thought of the horrified look sent shivers of anticipation down my spine—but a second before I reached it I was knocked backwards by a powerful gust of wind.

I hit the ground hard and the wind was knocked out of me. In shock, I stared up at the Swellow as it refolded its wings casually. Its feathers weren't ruffled in the slightest.

"I don't like to use my attacks if I don't have to," the Swellow said matter-of-factly, "so I hope you will stop."

"You wish!" I snarled, leaping again. Again, I found myself blasted a Gust, and I landed with my head buried so deep in moist ground that I couldn't get myself out for a few moments. My legs flailed in the air, trying to get my head out. I roared and screamed into the ground and my head was full of violent thoughts and colors, all overlapping each other in a mass of confusion: fury. Then suddenly, that whirring and buzzing in my mind melded into one solid force. Everything gained a reddish tint, as if my eyes were nearly glowing. When my legs pushed against the ground and popped my head free of it, it was like a supernatural force was controlling them rather than myself.

I turned to face the Swellow, my upper lip curling. And I leapt again.

A blast hit me but I cut straight through it.

I hit the bird so hard that it flew (not with wings, though) straight into a tree trunk that stood fifteen feet away. Its body peeled from the trunk and began falling, but it caught itself on one of the lower branches before it could hit the ground. Shakily, it regained its balance and stared at me with eyes so large the whites were showing.

I was pleased to note that _all _of its feathers were now ruffled, sticking out in all directions. I was about to nail it again, but the feeling of determined invincibility left me. I collapsed, breathing hard, hardly keeping from falling to the ground.

"Incredible," the Swellow croaked. "Yes, yes, indeed. Incredible."

I was too out of breath to say anything. The tightening of my chest hurt, making it difficult to breathe. I wished it would stop.

The bird smoothed some of its feathers down, but it quivered from the shock. "Where did you learn such a powerful form of Rage?"

"Rage?" I gasped. I, too, was trembling, and glared even harder at the bird for that.

"Rage is a move," the bird explained. "Yes, yes, it is a move, yes. B-but no Pokemon has been able to defeat me for many battles. Those who came close wore me down through hours of fighting. You nearly knocked everything out of me with a single move, indeed yes!" It studied me further. I would have moved to attack it, but I was too weak. "And also you are worn out from that single move, which shouldn't happen, no, not at all. Even if Rage is a continuous and dangerous move, it should have taken several, several minutes of fighting for you to grow tired, yes indeed. Pray tell, what _are_ you?"

As it said these last words it was staring at the ring on my chest, like it had figured out that I wasn't a normal Bagon. About time. "I am Rayquaza," I growled. "And I am _not_ tired. Nothing weakens me."

With that, I turned and stumbled away. It was horrible. Never before has my strength been depleted so quickly—not even by the Human Death Machine. What had happened? I just couldn't seem to figure it out.

Night had fallen but I didn't stop. Red eyes stared out at me from the trees, just as they had every other night. It sent chills down my spine. My feet tripped over each other and stumbled and sent waves of pain through my body with each step, but I refused to rest. I refused to spend another night here. Maybe once I was out of the forest, I could finally find my solitude that I so longed for.

In the end, when I finally emerged from the forest I didn't find solitude. But what I found was something just as satisfying.

I was on a grassy hill overlooking a collection of human establishments. It wasn't as large as many of the other metropolises I have seen and destroyed. But I knew.

Somewhere below me, in that mess of human waste, were the people of the Human Death Machine.

My mouth broke into a toothy grin. I'd make them pay.


	4. Hunter or Hunted?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

* * *

I'd waited three more days days, to regain my strength. After attempting to use Rage again a few more times, I decided to use it as more of a finishing blow to them for two reasons: first of all, it would hurt them. Badly. Excruciating pain, if I could aim it correctly. Second, when I used it it's like the move is not only hurting my opponent, but _my_ body as well. That's a problem that I don't yet have an answer to.

But my few days were over. Now I could smell it on the wind: the humans of the Death Machine were leaving the town. If I didn't catch them today, I might never get the chance. Thus, today was the day. Today, I would confront them and exact my revenge!

Feeling light-hearted, I began to waddle down the hill as best I could. This was a pain to do because I kept almost tripping over myself and rolling down the hill, but this didn't dampen my spirits. I was going to get _revenge_, after all, and nothing is sweeter than that.

I was halfway down the hill when a Swellow soared over me. At first I just glared up at it in annoyance because it was intruding on my space (anywhere I am is my space). But when it didn't fly away and kept pace with me my glare hardened because I recognized it from days before.

"Hey, hey, there you are!" the Swellow chirped. "I want to tell you some things!"

I stepped out of its shadow. It was blocking my sun and my sky. It was a good thing for this creature that I was in a good mood, with revenge so close I could taste it. "Leave now and your ignorance will be forgiven, bird," I growled.

"Oh, that's one of the things I want to tell you," it said. "My name isn't 'Bird', no, no. It's Lord."

"Of what?" I snorted before I could stop myself.

"Why, of the skies!"

I snorted again. How flight, something bestowed only upon the elite, came to this bird, I have no idea. It's a bit infuriating. "Realize and be thankful for your luck, _bird_, that I am not wasting my Rage on you today."

"That's the other thing I wanted to tell you about," it continued. "About that Rage thing. Well, I thought about it a lot, I did. 'Why did only one move nearly knock me out?' I asked myself. 'Why did only one move, and _their_ move at that, nearly knock _them_ out?' And I thought, and thought, and I've come up with the solution." Before I could reply that it could keep its solutions to itself, it said, "You claim to be Rayquaza, yes, yes?"

"You can bet your ability to fly that I am," I declared, and made to tell it to go away: "But I demand you—"

"How old are you?"

"Several millennia," I growled proudly, "which is why—"

It crowed in victory, excited. "Aha, yes, yes! That explains it, then!"

"Explains what?" I demanded, annoyed that it was ignoring me.

"Why your move is so powerful!" it exclaimed happily. "Imagine a ladder."

"A ladder?"

"Yes, yes, a ladder. Like the kind that the humans use, you know?"

I didn't have a clue what it was talking about. I'd never heard of this "ladder" in my life, but I didn't say so.

"Imagine a ladder," it continued. "Each rung on that ladder represents a different level of strength. To reach those levels of strength, you must climb the ladder. The higher you get on the ladder, the stronger you are."

"Great," I yawned, already bored and hoping that at least some response would appease the bird. It didn't.

"Now, to get from rung to rung, you must gain experience. You gain experience by fighting in battles and as time goes on, and you get older. The older you are, the stronger you are, both mentally _and_ physically. The perfect balance between strength of mind and strength of body is what makes a Pokemon powerful and able to climb the ladder. From the mind comes the will and power and strength of a move, and from the body comes your physical strength to be able to withstand the power of the move while you use it.

"This is why if a smaller, but more experienced Pokemon, faces a larger, less experienced Pokemon, the smaller one will win despite its size. It's mind and body are better balanced, with experience.

"Now, sometimes most of a Pokemon's experience will go towards a move that is specific to it for whatever reason--it may match the personality of the Pokemon or it simply favors it. In your case, your mind is full of lust for power and rage. Thus, because power comes from the mind, and your mind is full of rage, that particular attack is very powerful. However—and I have no idea how you ended up this way, no, no!—but however, I can see that your body is very young. That attack is beyond it. It cannot handle it, which is why the move hurts _you_ as well. In this way your mind and body are out of balance."

The bird fell silent, but it took a few moments for me to register that it was done. It looked at me expectantly to see what I thought of its observations. Honestly, I didn't want to think a thing of them. I had no idea how this Swellow had even come up with such an in-depth analysis. Don't get me wrong; it may have been in-depth, but the bird is still an idiot. He's just an idiot with a slight trace of a brain. But there is no other idea that I can come up with, thus I must put some faith into this one until its proven wrong. Ho-Oh's words came pouring back to me . . . _"Your mind may be millions of years old, but your body is not!" _That must be its way of saying, _"You're powerful, but at the same time very weak."_ The weakness of my body was holding me back. So what the bird said . . . made sense?

Of course, I said none of this aloud.

It didn't matter anyway, because Lord didn't seem to mind that I voiced no opinion. It had complete faith in its discovery and that was enough to make it content.

The human abodes nearest us, on the outskirts of the town, were fenced in by large blocks of wood around what they deemed to be their property. The Swellow simply soared right over the obstacle. I had to hunt around for a hole and then crawled through.

What happened next is one of the most curious instances in my life. Inside the fence was a yard. Playing in the yard was a human hatchling no bigger than I was, and its mother. While the child clapped its hands at me, and spluttered happily something along the lines of "Doggie!" the female adult charged me, screaming, with a strange stick in her hand that had bristles of hair on the end.

"Get out of here! Shoo!" she shrieked, jabbing at me with the bristles. "Go on, or I swear I'll swing this broom at you!"

I snarled, but before I could attack she'd swung the broom down. It hit me on the head. I had little doubt that, had my head not been rock-hard, that might have hurt a bit. When she swung it down again I hopped awkwardly out of the way and lunged, getting my teeth around it and trying to snap it in two. However, my teeth were small and weak.

It turned out that I didn't need my teeth. The human grabbed her hatchling and ran inside.

I released the stick, proud of my victory! I uttered a small victory cry and then remembered my purpose of being here. Leaving the incident behind me, I found a second hole and squeezed through it. Lord had been sitting on the fence and, once I was through, it continued to follow me. I made no move to stop it because I couldn't reach it.

Now, this town is small. _Small_. There aren't any buildings large enough here that would even be worth destroying. They're mostly all one or, _maybe_, two stories high. Yet somehow humans make even this little setting chaotic.

It is completely and utterly ridiculous. Little humans on strange, two-wheeled contraptions rode around all over the place, nearly running me over. Several Miniature Human Death Machines—cars?—roamed the streets. And noise. The noise didn't sound like much to the average creature, but I have never been around them. Roaring, laughing, tapping, walking, playing, hatchlings crying . . . these new noises were overwhelming and were so harsh that they made me see stars. I longed for my solitude.

I nipped at the ankles of a few humans that got in my way. A Miniature Human Death Machine nearly ran me over but I dove between its wheels and scrambled for the white pavement by the road—the safety zone. The walk on the side. Sidewalk.

Panting, I let my tongue loll out into the air for a few moments while I tried to catch my breath. Lord circled above me, amused. When I was ready I began walking again.

Down the road, into a side-street, out into another road and take a left—these were the directions in which my instincts led me. I listened to them blindly and it was well that I did, because we finally found ourselves standing underneath the front gate: a large, wooden arch with strange symbols carved into it. I cannot read, but I can illustrate the symbols: WELCOME TO OLDALE TOWN: WHERE THINGS START OFF SCARCE. Whatever that mess of symbols means. Humans are odd creatures.

There were two sets of fresh footprints in the ground, heading into the forest that lay ahead. My toes tingled with excitement and I trotted after the footprints as fast as I could. Lord was still above me.

For the next few minutes I could think of nothing but my revenge, drinking in the fact that it was _so close_. I was almost there, I would make them pay . . . Thoughts tinted blood-red and dark orange pierced my mind as fury rose up inside of me. I felt a fire burning in my chest. Rage was ready.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I didn't notice anything until we came upon them. There were two of them and they were about ten yards ahead of us, with their backs turned to us as they walked. They had a strange uniform, even stranger than usual human attire: all silver with black, diagonal stripes. Target acquired.

I did my best to roar, though I'm not sure exactly how fearsome it was when it came out. I didn't care. It did what it needed to do: get their attention.

The two of them spun around. They were both female and looked exactly the same. All humans do, really.

"Reddi, look!" one of them whispered urgently, as if I couldn't hear them. "It can't be . . . can it? It is! Look, it has the yellow ring." They began to draw a Poke Ball from their loose sleeve.

"Umi, hold on." The one called Reddi put her hand on the other's arm, halting her. "It's only a Bagon now. It's powerless."

"It's still Rayquaza!" Umi protested. "Bagon or not. And if it was turned into a Bagon, there has to be a way to turn it back. Think of the scientific improvements we could make."

They argued a bit more, but finally Reddi relented with a shrug and "Whatever."

Both threw their Poke Balls. From Reddi's burst the Crobat and from Umi's burst the Skarmory.

"Uuuhhhhh . . . can you take them?" Lord asked uneasily.

Even I felt my anticipation wilt. They looked a whole lot bigger close up. But this might be my last chance to make them pay. I wouldn't let it slide through my nonexistent claws, so to speak.

Growling, I leapt at the larger of the two, the Skarmory. I unleashed Rage and barreled into its metal chest, knocking it backwards. It landed hard on the ground with a priceless, stunned look on its face that matched that of its master.

I landed on the ground shakily but fortunately, that wasn't enough to make me fall; my head hurt from the impact, but my Rock Head ability must have softened the damage. But the attack had zapped a good portion of my physical strength already and I began to have doubts about possible victory. I pushed them away.

Reddi's eyes gleamed. "So Rayquaza lives in you after all. You have its strength, unmatched by any Pokemon. It's power." As the word 'power' left her tongue, her eyes seemed to glow with an inhuman fierceness. Greed, or something similar. "Umi, you're right. Its form doesn't matter. It is still Rayquaza, power and all. Crobat, Air Slash!"

The Crobat dove down for a hit but I leapt out of the way. Although, its wing cut a small, shallow gash on one foreleg. I was still unused to blood and it tingled, but I shook the feeling off. I had a battle to fight.

While the Crobat circled back around I leapt again, using Rage. I slammed into it and sent it hurtling backwards; it managed to catch itself before hitting the ground and spiraled back into the sky. This time, I stumbled.

Meanwhile, Skarmory had clambered back to its feet and charged me from behind. Lord intercepted the attack and Gusted it back to the ground. For a moment I wondered why, exactly, Lord was so strong, but I dismissed the thought as unimportant. Next in that moment I made to bark at Lord to back off from my battle, but the Crobat was coming back.

"Poison Fang!"

"Steel Wing!"

Lord caught the Skarmory's Steel Wing on his beak and kept it at bay by pushing it backwards by sheer force. The Crobat was coming back at me. My Rage kept going. I connected with the Crobat again, but a split second before I hit, it sank its teeth into my hind-leg. My attack sent it wheeling into the nearest tree. It hit the trunk and sank to the ground.

"Just think," Reddi laughed madly. "Just think what we could do with it! With proper training it could be invincible, Umi! Why, look how it won't give up!"

My bad leg buckled when I hit the ground but I refused to surrender. I supported myself with my good leg, hardly letting my injured one touch the ground.

"Oh, how powerful it'll be when it's fully evolved!" Reddi cried. That ferocious gleam was intensifying with every passing minute. She gazed at me hungrily, like she couldn't wait to sink her teeth into me.

My brain felt fuzzy and dizzy, and I looked at where the Poison Fang had sank into my leg. _Poison_, I thought faintly. _Got through_.

Lord dealt a powerful blow to the Skarmory—a beam of white light that would have fully encompassed the metal bird had it not ducked out of the way in time. I recognized the move as Hyper Beam, which was strange because I knew for a fact that Swellow don't learn that naturally. Do they? I couldn't tell; my mind was so fuzzy . . . couldn't think straight . . .

Part of the Hyper Beam still hit the Skarmory and blasted it backwards. It struggled weakly to its feet. Lord had to recharge itself after such a powerful move, but while it tried to attack again Crobat slammed into it from behind. Lord hit the ground hard and gasped. Crobat attacked again, with Cross Poison. Lord had trouble getting out of the way in time and was nailed with the attack. It stood, shakily, and shuddered. Not poisoned, by the clear look in its eye, but terrified.

Lord looked around—at the masters opposite us on the road and their Skarmory and Crobat. Skarmory was just barely holding on; it could barely stand. Crobat had a bit more fight in it.

Finally Lord's wide, panicked eyes rested on me. It took off, flapping its wings in a frenzy. "Gotta find Damion," it squawked in terror. Then, louder, "Gotta find Damion!" And it flew away, still screeching that phrase over and over.

I stared after it, disbelieving. My mind was hazy and I felt awful and my leg burned and I could barely stand and I was bone-tired from using Rage and _it just left me_? Well, of course, I reminded myself. Maybe it had been more worn out than it'd looked, and fled a hopeless battle.

The fogginess in my mind blocked out my normal train of thought and left one, clear notion behind, and that was that I couldn't win this alone. At least, some of my sense of dignity must have been able to live through the poison, however, because the very second that that awful thought appeared it vanished as if torn to shreds.

The Rage continued. Awkwardly because of my injured leg, I leaped at the Skarmory. It was weakest; Lord had worn it out well, and it could be dispatched faster. I was right. I aimed for its throat, to knock the air out of it. The poison threw my aim off a bit and I ended up hitting its upper-chest area, but it was powerful enough to knock it out of the battle. Umi recalled it to its Poke Ball.

Reddi's eyes were feverish now. "Crobat!" she yelled, and the bat Pokemon swooped down and hit me with full force.

I was thrown far back down the road and landed in the dirt, bouncing twice before I rolled to a stop. With a growl thrumming deep in my throat, I struggled to my feet again. Another hit, another toss down the road, and another fight to stand.

This went on for several minutes. I refused to give in. Every time I tried to stand up it took longer, and every time I came up shorter than before. Finally, after several rounds, I could only raise myself so that my head, and nothing else, was above the ground. At least it was something.

"Reddi, isn't it weak enough to be caught?" Umi asked.

"Of course not," Reddi snapped. "Umi, this is _Rayquaza_. You can't catch it like any other Pokemon. It has to be knocked out, period!"

But she had grown impatient with waiting for me to be knocked out. She had had a black Poke Ball out for several minutes now and was shifting it from hand to hand, waiting for the opportunity to use it. "I've had enough," she growled. "Crobat! Shadow Ball!"

But right before it fired the Shadow Ball, something broke inside of me—part of my will, maybe. It just broke. It broke as simply as one might snap their fingers. I collapsed in the dirt, unable to move further. Just collapsed. Me, Rayquaza, _just collapsed_.

Reddi let out a maniacal laugh. "Ha! You're mine, you're _mine_, Ray—"

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice called behind me, interrupting her. Crobat fired the Shadow Ball. "Hey—HEY! What are you doing! Hyper Beam!"

I saw the dark ball of energy flying towards me, but a second later someone came between it and me and took the blast with a grunt.

My first impression was that it was Lord, but that wasn't so. Lord had just blasted the Crobat out of the sky with a Hyper Beam and was chasing the two human females away. I couldn't move my head at all and could only roll my eyes up to see who had taken the Shadow Ball for me.

And what I saw, if I had not been in the state that I was, would have made me so furious that I would have summoned a Rage powerful enough to knock down every tree within a ten mile radius.

Lord returned to stand off to the side and I began to demand furiously if it was aware of the magnitude of what it had done. "You brought a—" But my vision flickered and everything went dark before I could finish.


	5. Damion

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

* * *

When I awoke I was sitting on a fluffy, unfamiliar substance. Alarmed, I hastily poked it with a foreleg. When it didn't attack me, I allowed myself to lower my guard just a bit.

"Hey, you're awake."

The voice was unexpected. I sat up quickly and looked around to find the source, but my head began to spin. I cradled it as best I could in my short forelegs and continued to look for the source of the voice.

Lord was glaring at me from its perch on a makeshift tree. "You're sitting on The Couch," it said enviously. "Lucky. Whenever I try to do that they shoo me away, yes, yes."

I was unsure of quite what to think and decided to start with, _What is a couch?_ I looked down at what I was sitting on. A big, fat, maroon-colored object with two cushions, one of which I was sitting on, and arms poking out from more cushions lined up to my backside. The Couch took up a whole wall of the room.

_Room?!_

My mind sparked and raged as everything began to fall into place. It was a small room, but a room none the less. I didn't take in many details; I didn't want to see any of it—especially after glimpses of the rug, petite tables, and paintings of fruit on the walls. I was in a human abode.

A growl rumbled deep in my throat and I made to thrash around in my fury, but Lord said, "Whoa, there. You got pretty banged up, yup, yup."

At first I was going to ignore it but I rammed my foot into the arm of the chair and it felt as if it were splitting in two. I hugged the foot to me until the pain had passed. Once the wave of hurt had left me, though, I felt bone tired and every bit of me started to ache. My forelegs, my feet, my whole battered torso . . . and my head especially felt like an overripe berry: mushy, and like it would explode if squeezed too hard. One of my forelegs left my foot and instead went to rub at what I could reach of my head. The horrid Bagon body was too young and weak to take hits like it had the day before. Even more so than before, I missed my body that could take the very same hits this Bagon one had yesterday, and yet not have even a scratch from them.

The envy had left Lord's expression. Amusement replaced it. "You don't just tackle a Skarmory and expect your head to be whole and well, no, no. Especially when you're so young. I'm surprised your head didn't deflate on impact."

I grumbled to myself, hating this body more and more every minute. At least Bagon's rock-hard head had proven itself. Lord had a point. Had it not been for the hardened head that Bagon are so famous for, my young, baby body might have been smashed because it's so weak. I grit my teeth, too tired and sore to reply to Lord's statement. I hadn't felt this awful in millennia. I loathed it.

But memories from before came pouring back to me. The poison, the two human females, the Skarmory, the Crobat . . . and . . .

"The human!" I shouted.

"Sshhh!" Lord shushed me.

"Don't shush me!" I snarled. "You . . . you brought _it_ there! You _fetched_ it! You waste, garbage, scum! Unfit to bear the gift of flight! How dare you bring such a foul, disgraceful, a product of land-waste—!"

In a split second Lord was on top of me with its claws pinning my forelegs to The Couch. I tried to snap at it, but it kept its head out of reach—just close enough to my face for its eyes to bore into my own. It was very, unexpectedly strong. "Do not insult Damion if you wish to remain bodily whole. And do not dare to insult Aldemar if you wish to live."

I was startled as it released me and flew back to its perch as if nothing had happened. I had thought seriousness beyond Lord's mental capacity.

I glared at the room adjacent to this one. Two humans, one very old and one very young, were sitting at the table. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Just looking at them made my lip curl, so I looked away and focused on Lord instead.

"Bird, what happened?" I demanded, meaning _What's going on and how did I end up here because I'm leaving_.

"This morning?" Lord shrugged his wings. "Well, I fetched Damion because he can keep a cooler head than I. I'd lost it; those Pokemon were _big_." He nodded in gesture towards the younger of the two humans. "He took that Shadow Ball for you, by the way," Lord added coolly, and I noticed some marks on the boy's arms leftover from the attack similar to the ones left when one scrapes themselves on the sidewalk. The older human was saying that they wanted to bandage it, but the younger one shrugged and shook its head, hiding its arms from view under the table. "If anything, you owe him."

My teeth were bared. "I owe it nothing!" I snarled. "Nothing! Now tell me, bird, what I am doing in this human den!"

"Well," Lord continued, "I went to fetch Damion and . . . well, you were really weak and needed help, the poison was spreading . . . but dude, you weigh like, a hundred pounds. I couldn't pick you up for the life of me and Damion tried to hand-carry you . . . he's strong enough to, don't get me wrong, but it would have taken longer . . ."

As pitiful as Bagon snarls are, the guttural sound gurgling in my throat was fairly impressive. _Carry me?_ I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream and then curl into a ball on the floor and isolate myself from the world and never uncurl from that ball. My eyes burned as the anger flowed through them. Even Lord flinched while looking me in the eye. "And then?" I croaked.

"And then . . ." Lord shifted uncomfortably on its perch. "And then . . . uh . . . well, listen. They're talking about it now."

Suspicious, I protested, but it didn't look at me again.

Grumbling, I turned to the humans, loathing the fact that I had to listen to these creatures for my answers.

"Are you certain that's what you want to do?" the older one said.

"Yes, Grandpa."

The old man leaned back in his chair, eyeing the boy thoughtfully. "Recount for me again exactly what happened."

The boy fidgeted with his hands under the table, rubbing his arms where the Shadow Ball had hit. "I was walking back from the Mart with the groceries you'd asked me to fetch for you when Lord ran into me in the street—literally," he added, chuckling. Then seriousness returned to his face. "It was in a bad state, all its feathers ruffed up and it was squawking like there's no tomorrow. It looked like it wanted me to follow it. I know that Lord doesn't usually act up over anything small, so I did."

"And you went . . . where, exactly?"

The boy removed one hand from under the table and gestured with it, as if drawing the location on the table. "There's that path by the front gate that goes on for awhile that no one seems to ever use—it's for travelers only, that's why. You know what I'm talking about?" The old man nodded and the boy continued. "Well, Lord had me running as fast as I could and I found the Bagon. You saw what shape it was in when I brought it home. And there were these two really—weird looking—girls that were battling it, even though it was already in such an awful state." He scowled and his tone took on a biting edge. "I don't know what could possibly drive them to do that—"

"What happened next?" the old man interrupted.

The boy closed his eyes as he dropped that other subject and started again. "They looked suspicious, so Lord and I followed them while they were running away. They ran to some helicopter that they had hidden in the woods and took off before I could do anything—"

"Which is just as well. You shouldn't have gotten involved," Aldemar scolded. "They could be dangerous. You should alert the police."

"I have, Pa, and I couldn't let them do that," the boy growled, clenching his hands into fists. "If you'd been in my place, you would have done the same thing. Besides, Lord wanted me to do it. You wouldn't want to contradict your old, faithful Swellow, would you?" This last sentence was said with a lighter, teasing tone to ammend for the harsher one and Aldemar rolled his eyes.

I couldn't believe my ears. While they continued to argue over what the boy should and shouldn't have done, I snapped my gaze back to Lord, who was still sitting as if nothing had happened. "You . . . you're . . ." I spluttered.

Lord looked at me and blinked. "Yes, yes?"

"You belong to that human!" I yelled. "But you were in the forest!"

"Why, yes," Lord said simply, gazing at me as if I were stupid and this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course. Aldemar lets me roam around away from home if I wish because I will always return, for I have been his companion for many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many—"

Each 'many' felt like a physical blow to my brain. I flinched each time it said it.

"—many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many—"

"Shut up!" I groaned. My head was spinning again.

"—many years."

Aldemar wiped a hand tiredly over his face. "Damion . . . what if it belonged to those people? As wrong they may have been, if it was theirs you shouldn't have interfered . . ."

Damion grinned nervously. "It didn't belong to them. If it did, well . . . this wouldn't have worked . . ." He reached into his jacket pocket and began to retrieve something.

"Just remember that this was the quickest way to get you back here for aid," Lord said apologetically.

I opened my mouth to retaliate or demand what it was talking about, but no words would come from my mouth.

Because Damion had just set a Poke Ball on the table.

* * *

The ball was the only thing on the table and the boy, the old man, and I all stared at it. The old man in mild surprise, the boy in uncertainty, and I . . .

I stared at it in horror, in disbelief, and in plain shock all at once. I felt numb.

Aldemar looked mildly surprised as he gazed at the ball. "Where did you get a Friend Ball?"

Damion shrugged and picked up the ball, passing it idly from hand to hand. "My parents made it together when they went to Johto before I was born. And they gave it to me when I set my heart on being a Trainer, before they . . ." He swallowed hard. "When I was young."

"Ah," Aldemar said in understanding.

I looked at my Poke Ball . . . I never thought I'd have to say "_my_ Poke Ball", nor had I in the least bit wanted to; the very idea was horrid . . . My Poke Ball wasn't red and white like the other ones I'd seen. It was green, with four red dots and one yellow one centered on the top portion of it. I just gaped at it. I couldn't think of what to think.

"I'm _caught_?" I roared, and thrashed around. I hurt, but I didn't care; I was _caught_, captured, I had a blasted Poke Ball, my freedom was crumbling through my (nonexistent) claws, and it didn't matter if I was sore or tired because I was captured and WANTED OUT OF THIS HUMAN WASTE DEN!

I knocked over a lamp on the table next to The Couch and it crashed to the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces. I'd punched the lamp with my foreleg and felt like I'd jammed the bone straight up the socket. I stuck it in my mouth to relieve the pain, seething.

The noise caused Aldemar and Damion to look up. "Looks like your Bagon's up," Aldemar grunted, rising from the table. He stretched. "Let's move this conversation into the living room. There's some things we need to settle."

Damion nodded and they came into the room. Aldemar sat down while Damion swept up all the little broken pieces with a broom—which, after my experience with brooms, made me very wary—and when he was done Damion tried to sit down on The Couch with me. I snarled and snapped at him, even when Lord shot me a warning glance. I thought at first that Damion was completely oblivious to my attempts to be fearsome and I was sulky, but then he turned to look at me strangely.

And I saw that he'd been completely aware of every movement I'd made, yet he hadn't reacted to it in the least.

This made me stop, in confusion more than anything.

Aldemar was looking at me in contempt. Evidently he had seen my actions towards his grandhatchling and wasn't pleased. "Are you sure this is the one?" he asked doubtfully.

Damion nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely."

"Do you know what that mark is from?" the old man asked. He gestured to his chest and drew a ring in the air in front of it.

The boy shrugged. "No clue. But some Pokemon have different markings. It's nothing too distinguishing."

Aldemar wasn't convinced. "Someone may have marked it for a reason; 'Beware Dangerous Pokemon', or something similar."

Damion shook his head in exasperation and hid a smile. Aldemar still saw the smile and sighed. "Damion, I just know that you've waited a long time to find the right Pokemon. I don't want you to be mistaken."

"Grandad," Damion said, firmly, "this is it. I know it. I don't know how, I just do. The way it wouldn't give up when it was fighting against all odds . . ." He shook his head and threw his hands up. "I can't describe it. Just trust me."

"Mmm." Aldemar was silent for a few moments. Then he clapped his hands with finality and sat forward. "If you're sure about this, he needs a name."

"Ray," Damion said. At Aldemar's glance, he shrugged. "Before I intervened earlier, one of the girls said 'You're mine, you're _mine_, Ray!' So that must be its name or something. Pokemon get attached to their names. Giving it a different one would just confuse it."

Aldemar nodded. "When do you plan on leaving?"

The boy idly fingered his ear as he thought. "A week."

"A week?"

"A week."

I'd jumped off The Couch several minutes ago. The hard floor was more fit to my mood than the stupid couch. I found the coldest corner in the room and curled into a ball, blocking out the rest of the conversation. I'd lost track of what was happening. All I knew was that I was trapped by four walls all around me.


	6. Tools of the Trade

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

* * *

A bowl of food sat in a small, plastic bowl next to me. Or rather, it had, until I'd kicked it and spewed the junk all over the floor.

Three days spent in the human abode found me still huddled in my corner, facing the wall.

I'd thought about escaping once or twice but hadn't actually done so. The four walls around me were unfamiliar. I felt caged, trapped. Could the walls be knocked down? Could the windows be broken? I didn't know but I had no inner fire large enough yet to try. It was nothing but embers, but don't mistake me. Those embers were lying in wait for a gust of wind to flare them up. I long for the scent of the world beyond the window, but no smell leaks through. If I could just smell freedom I'm sure I could summon enough willpower to try escaping, but until then I must lie in wait.

And it still hasn't sunk in yet that I . . . _I_, Rayquaza, have a Poke Ball. My mind is a blank. It's too devoid of any thought or reason or care to do much anything other than sleep. A few times my Rage was triggered randomly, but I remember nothing of those moments. The only proof I have of it is the torn-up Couch, some lopsided pictures, and a few blotchy bruises dotting my body.

Aldemar was in the midst of setting some pictures straight while Damion packed stuffing back into The Couch. The old man looked around at the room, annoyed. "Damion, can't you put it in its damn ball? Excuse my French."

The boy hesitated. "I'd rather not. It doesn't seem the type to enjoy being in one."

"It doesn't seem the type to enjoy anything," Aldemar grumbled. He righted a frame and looked at me, huddled in my corner. "Damion, go get those things my Pokemon used to like. Maybe he'll enjoy them. They might get him to do something other than bring down the house," he added under his breath.

Damion picked the last of the stuffing off the floor, shoved it into The Couch, and disappeared down one of the adjoining halls. I glared around the room, at the fruit pictures, at the ugly walls, at whatever my eyes fell on. I glared at them as if they would incinerate if I stared at them hard enough. Lord was on his perch, cawing happily as Aldemar paused and passed a hand over his feathers.

Fool. I lifted my lips in a snarl at the bird, but it paid no attention. I was sick of it not paying attention. Like I was ridiculous and not worth wasting time over.

I growled at Lord sharply as a warning. When it swiveled its head around to stare at me, I nodded in approval and continued to let my gaze wander around the room.

Damion reentered the room, carrying a box. As he drew nearer to me I snarled, daring him to come closer. But before he got dangerously close he set the box down and slid it across the hardwood floor to me. "Here you go." He returned to working on The Couch. I completely ignored the box and looked at anything but it.

The boy kept glancing back at me to see if I was doing anything. Finally he gave a sigh and left his work again, sitting on the other side of the box from me. I watched him warily. "Here, this is what you do." He reached inside and pulled out two cube-shaped objects, and stacked them on the floor.

I gaped at his insolence as he and Aldemar took a break in the kitchen and left me in the room. "RAYQUAZA DOES NOT PLAY WITH BLOCKS!" I roared, jumping up and down and waving my arms wildly. How dare he undermine my reputation so! Had he no respect? I _command_ respect! I demand it and if anyone dares to refuse me they will perish!

My eyes began to glow with the familiar, reddish tint of Rage, and I leaped after them but was intercepted by Lord. He and I rolled on the floor, and when we stopped rolling he was on top.

"Let me go!" I snapped.

"No!" Lord clicked its beak in irritation. "I thought that maybe you would have calmed down by now, but you haven't, no, no!"

"He tried to make me play with _blocks_!" I cried.

"I'm not talking about _now_," Lord barked. "I'm talking about since the _woods_. That was almost two weeks ago and instead of getting better, your Rage is getting worse."

"My Rage is getting stronger," I snarled.

"And that's precisely the problem, yup, yup," Lord growled. "Look at your bruises. Those are _not_ from hitting yourself on The Couch or walls. Those bruises were given to you by Rage. It's going to destroy you if you can't calm down and learn to control it."

"What do you care?" I screeched.

"Because you are Damion's Pokemon now!" Lord snapped its beak dangerously close to my ear and I flinched—not at it snapping at me, I wasn't afraid of that, but at its words.

_You are Damion's Pokemon now._

_You are Damion's._

_I belong to him._

"No I don't!" I wailed. "I'm not caught! I'm not!"

_Captivity._

_Alliance._

"I'm not! I'm not!"

I didn't even notice when Lord stepped off of me. It began to give me directions for how to control the move—it recommended simply not to use it at all until I was strong enough to control it, though for that to work I would have to learn other attacks.

"Your attacks are your tools of the trade, and you're only as good as they are," it explained in a gentler tone. "That move is too powerful for you. You need to lock it away for now and use something you're ready for. Don't worry, as you grow you'll develop and learn stronger attacks. Just remember to respect your limits."

Hardly taking in a word it said, I curled myself into a ball and turned away so it could only see my back. Limits? I'd never had limits before. Limits made you weak. Angry tears leaked out. Weakness.

My insides felt cold, like I was slowly being shrouded in a blanket of ice. I felt like my insides were shriveling in the freeze. I hugged myself to keep the warmth in.

_Controlled._

_Zombie_. That's what all human-controlled Pokemon are, after all. Not free to make their own decisions. Completely devoid of thought, only able to do as the Trainer ordered.

_The skies—gone._

_Freedom—gone._

_Strength, power—gone._

_Will . . ._ where was my will?

I could still feel it in my chest—that pile of embers. But where was the wind that could ignite it, flare it into a flame?

"Ray?" Someone lightly brushed my back.

The contact woke me from my reverie. I looked to see who had dared touched me. Damion stood above me, holding the door handle.

He smiled sadly at me, apparently sensing my distress. "Come on, Ray," he said gently. "We're leaving in a few days. We need to get to the Mart for supplies." He looked at me, curled on the floor. "And Ray, you need to get outside. I'm sorry for keeping you cooped up. That's my fault. No wonder you're so depressed."

And he opened the door.

The scent of the world beyond the door washed over me. The wind seemed to flare up the ashes of my will. It burned brightly now. I breathed deeply, allowing the wind to break upon me and fan at my inner fire, drinking in the mingling scents of grass and air. I drank in even the stench of humans.

Rejuvenated, I wondered how I could have possibly allowed myself to sink so low into depression. My guard had been down. I shuddered, remembering the coldness from moments before, like icy claws were penetrating my heart. My guard couldn't be down. It had to be up. I am Rayquaza, I reminded myself.

Once the scents of the outside had died down and I could think clearly, I realized that this was it. I could escape. Freedom was just beyond the doorway.

I took the chance, leaping to my feet and bolting to the doorway. I tripped over the steps as I ran down them, and then I waddled up the street as fast as my legs could carry me.

But something zapped me from behind and I knew no more.

The next thing I knew I was back on the porch steps. My head was dizzy, like it had been put to sleep for years.

When my head cleared I looked around and saw Damion standing over me. In his hand was my Poke Ball.

I glared at him. No Poke Ball was going to stop me. I jumped down the steps again. Again, I was zapped into the Poke Ball. And again, the next thing I knew after being "returned" to the ball was standing at Damion's feet.

"Come on, Ray," Damion said, hiding a smile. He jumped down the steps and started a leisurely walk down the street. I took the opposite direction. Again I was returned to the ball, and again I was released at his feet.

Angry now, I decided to just kill the human. I jumped at his face, tiny teeth extended, ready to use Rage if I must. But a few bashes of Bagon's hardened head ought to be enough.

"Return."

And the process was repeated over again.

This time when I found myself outside the ball I was so dizzy I could hardly stand. Being in a Poke Ball was like going to sleep for years. When you wake up you have no idea where you are or how you got there until your head clears and you get a good look around.

I'm not stupid, and apparently neither was this boy (though I hate to admit it). Running away or killing him wasn't going to be an option. At least, not as long as he had the Poke Ball.

Damion was still walking down the street. I crept up behind him and jumped, aiming for the arm with the Poke Ball. "Agh," Damion grunted, unable to get a good angle on me before I knocked the ball out of his hand.

I roared in triumph and waddled quickly to the ball, snatching it up. I'd won! Now it had to be destroyed! Wanting to savor every moment of cracking this cursed ball open and smashing it to pieces, I opened my jaws wide and bit down on it as hard as I could.

I realized two things in the moment that followed. Firstly, Poke Balls are like steel. I nearly broke my jaw.

Secondly, it was the most _heavenly_ feeling I'd had in quite awhile.

I groaned in relief. Until that moment, I hadn't known exactly how much my jaws had hurt, had been aching for something to chew on. It felt so _good_. I continued to gnaw at the ball.

Damion knelt down and gently took the ball in one hand. Then he wriggled his fingers against my belly. I shrieked and fell over backwards. Was he _tickling_ me?

When I'd opened my mouth to shriek he'd grabbed the ball from me. Now I was rubbing my belly, trying to get the tingly feeling to go away. Before I could react, the boy held my mouth open with his hands and peered inside. "Huh. Your teeth have come in. No wonder you want something to chew on." He poked one of the larger fangs protruding from the back of my mouth with a finger. "You'll have a nasty Bite attack," he observed. Then he pocketed the Poke Ball, but still kept his hand in the pocket should he need it.

I didn't want to _follow_ him but I couldn't stay behind or he'd just put me back in that hateful ball. So, I got in front of him. Being in the lead didn't help much, but at least I felt more in control. I refused to look at the boy.

I heard a laugh behind me and Damion spoke. "You're spirited. I like that." When I gave no indication that I'd paid attention, he fell silent.

Then he spoke again. "You know, I could've become a Trainer six years ago. That's when I was old enough to get my first Pokemon and leave. But I didn't want to. I'm sure that if you get a Pokemon from the lab you eventually form a bond with it, but . . . I dunno. It just seems weird to just walk up one day and receive your life partner from a laboratory. I decided to wait for a Pokemon that I felt a connection with from the start."

I continued to ignore him as I headed down the road. There were human abodes that looked exactly the same rising up on either side of me, blocking out large chunks of the sky. It made me angry. I made note to come back and destroy them whenever I could.

One abode, though, stood out from the others. Not because of the abode itself, but because of the human in its driveway. It was a boy about Damion's age.

But he only had one arm.

He was bouncing a ball on the pavement with his single arm and throwing the ball to the basket. A basketball.

"Hey, Dante!" Damion called. "Pass it here." He held up a hand, indicating that he wanted the ball.

Dante looked up and saw him. He nodded and threw the ball to Damion, who caught it. Damion ran over to the basket, dribbling the ball at his side, and threw it up to the hoop. It hit the board behind the hoop and fell to the ground.

"Nice shot," Dante said, even thought Damion had missed. He was grinning from ear to ear as Damion passed the ball back. Damion noticed the smile and seemed somewhat surprised.

"You seem to be in a better mood than usual," he joked. I could tell from his tone that he was only half-kidding with the other boy.

Dante shrugged. "We're going on a family vacation in a few days. It's great. We've been planning it for _weeks_. _Weeks_, and my parents haven't canceled it yet. I think we may actually go on this one."

Damion shot the ball again, but he missed the hoop again. He fetched the ball as it bounced into the road and threw it back to Dante, who managed to catch it with his single hand. As Damion started down the street again, he called, "Have fun on the vacation."

Dante nodded his thanks and went back to playing with the basketball.

"That's Dante," Damion explained to me once we were out of earshot. "He lost his arm years ago, when he was hit by a truck . . . His parents are never home because of their work, so he spends all his time playing basketball. It's cool that they get to spend some time together on the vacation. I'm sure he's more excited about it than he's letting on. Ray, this way." He turned right down another road. Grumbling, I rushed to get back in front of him to maintain my position. The subject of Dante was dropped; now we had to deal with the Mart.

He stopped in front of a small, square building with a blue roof and Poke Ball designs plastered all over the door and two windows. That alone made me wary of this place. There were symbols on a banner over the door that traced "MART", though I couldn't read it. The glass door was propped open to let the breeze sweep through the place on the hot, summer day. Damion went inside, and I cautiously followed.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. I wrinkled my nose as the scents of twenty different types of Poke food wormed their way up my nose. I sneezed and rubbed my nose.

There was a man at the counter that looked up upon our entrance. "Hello, Damion. What can I do for you?" Before Damion could answer, the man saw me and smiled. "Ah, you finally found one. Do I finally get to sell you supplies for a journey?"

"Yes, sir," said Damion.

The man left the counter and led Damion down one of the aisles. I looked around me. There were huge walls all about the room, covered with hundreds of objects that I'd never seen before. To distract myself from the awful smell, I began to inspect the objects.

I heard Damion and the man—Mr. Grocer was apparently his name—talking from a few aisles down about items like tents, cooking tools, Poke Balls, and food and blankets and other items that made no sense to me. Their words just confused me, so I blocked them out as I started inspecting various objects.

Most of what was on my aisle were the funny smelling food bags. Wondering if there was any way to block out the smell, I opened one of the bags and ate one of the chunky contents. It tasted like feet and I spat it back out, and put the bag back with a shudder. But that small taste had reminded me of how hungry I was. My belly rumbled.

So I opened the next bag and tested its contents. It was even nastier than the first.

It took several more bags until I found a decent one, and I began to eat it hungrily. I was halfway finished when the two humans arrived at my aisle.

"Aaahh!" Mr. Grocer cried. "What's it doing with my products?"

Damion knelt by me and gently tried to take the bag. I wouldn't let go. It was _my_ bag.

He stopped trying to take it, and rather looked at some of the lettering on the bag. "'Special recipes will make this taste to your Pokemon like Grumpig'." He shrugged and let go of my bag, then added a few more identical ones from the shelves to the pile of stuff he was holding. "I'll take these as well as the one Ray's already eaten."

Grumbling, Mr. Grocer retreated to the counter and Damion followed. There was a mountain of stuff. I watched them while I chewed. I felt better now that my belly was full.

When they were through with the transaction, Mr. Grocer allowed Damion to take one of the shopping carts with him so he could carry all the stuff. Before we left, he reached into one of the bags and pulled out an object that he handed to me. "Try chewing on _that_."

It was shaped like a Poke Ball. Remembering the relief I'd had from earlier, I bit down on it as hard as I could. It wasn't as hard as a Poke Ball, but squeezable, so it didn't hurt my jaw as much. And it squeaked. I popped it out of my mouth and glared at it. Why was it squeaking? When I turned it over and still couldn't find the source, I shrugged and stuck it back in.

We passed Dante again, and he was still playing basketball. He looked up and gave a short wave as we walked by. Damion returned the wave, and we headed back to the abode.

I worked on my squeaking, chewy thing the whole way. It amused me not only because it felt good, but it drove Aldemar and Damion crazy for the rest of the night. Aldemar wanted to throttle me for it and Damion claimed to regret buying the stupid thing. Even Lord hid his head under his wing to escape the noise. They tried to take it from me a few times but I wouldn't surrender it.

I chewed on it late into the night, until Damion threatened to put me in the Poke Ball. Only then did I stop.

Stupid human.

* * *

**A/N: The "RAYQUAZA DOES NOT PLAY WITH BLOCKS!" is credited to ScytheRider.**


	7. Last Minute Decisions

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

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Lord had earlier explained to me exactly what Pokemon Trainers did, and ever since I had been chewing in both fury and misery on the squeaky ball. I'd known already that Pokemon were captured to be controlled. But why? What's the point of battling, _for no good given reason_, for a human? They're only using us because they don't want to battle themselves! If I _want_ to battle, believe me, I'll battle. I don't need some human waste-brained idiot telling me when and whom I'm going to fight.

I imagined throwing Damion out of a Poke Ball and ordering him to attack instead, and then watching him get thrown about by the enemy. The thought gave me some satisfaction.

But it wasn't to be. _I_ was the one that was going to get thrown from a Poke Ball if I didn't do something. The human was going to take me to who knew where. It was going to brainwash me. I shuddered at the thought of becoming a mindless zombie, doomed forever to obey orders.

I was startled from my thoughts by the door slamming shut as a bag-laden Damion returned from the Mart. He had run some last-minute errands for the old man. He looked irritated.

I glared at him and returned to my ball, squeaking with all my might to cause him as much pain as possible. "Quit it, Ray," Damion snapped, depositing the bags on the kitchen table and then snatching the ball from my mouth. I tried to bite his leg but he walked away too quickly.

"Where's Aldemar?" Damion asked of Lord. The bird nodded towards the hallway, but Aldemar had just emerged from one of the rooms.

"I'm right here. Is something wrong?"

Damion shrugged and led the way to the table, where they sat down. "Nothing's really _wrong_, I just need your advice."

"Advice?" said Aldemar, raising an eyebrow.

"Not exactly advice, either," Damion admitted. "More of an opinion."

Aldemar settled himself more comfortably in his chair to listen. I interrupted them by screeching, "Baaaaaaaaaaagoooon!" Damion looked down at the ball in his hand and sighed. He rose from his seat and, while he was at it, brought over a bowl of my new feed along with the ball.

I took the ball back, but not the feed. I loathed the idea of being _given_ my food, especially by a human. If I accept something that I need in order to live, like food, it gives the impression that I I depend on whoever offered it for survival. I don't.

"You know Dante, from up the street?" Damion asked.

"The kid that's always playing basketball? Yeah, he's out there all the time."

Damion nodded. "I want to invite him to come with Ray and me."

Aldemar let out a long breath of air. "His parents won't like that."

"He's sixteen," Damion snapped. When he realized how sharp his tone was he relented a bit, but his voice was still hard. "Most kids start looking after themselves when they're _ten_. He's more than old enough to make a decision for himself."

"I agree with you," Aldemar said calmly, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying that his parents have been rather protective of him since he lost his arm in that accident."

"His _parents_ are never home," Damion grumbled.

"That's what this is about?" Aldemar said.

The boy chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Do you know that they were supposed to go on a vacation this week? His parents canceled it because some little thing came up at work. I just found that out on my way back from the store."

"Damion, you have to understand that his parents _do _care for him very much," Aldemar pointed out.

"I know," Damion muttered, relenting. "I just . . . I dunno. He acted like he didn't even care that they'd canceled the trip, when he was really excited a few days ago. I think the whole situation bugs him more than he lets on. It might be fun for him if he could get out of this town, at least for a while . . . it's not like he can really go anywhere when he's stuck here . . . but I don't know . . ."

"He was always a secluded one," Aldemar agreed.

"What do you think?" Damion demanded.

Aldemar thought for awhile. Finally he got up from the table and started to put the groceries away, calling over his shoulder, "I'll trust your decision."

"But what's your opinion?"

Aldemar shrugged. "My opinion is that you have a good heart, Damion. You're also very determined. I'm glad you are asking my opinion, but there is little doubt in my mind that you would ask this Dante one way or another. Try inviting him, I suppose. After that it'll be up to Dante, after all."

Damion nodded slowly and got up from the table. "Thanks, Grandpa," he said before the door clicked shut behind him.

When Aldemar finished the last of the groceries and retired to his room, I spat the squeaky ball out with a sigh and set it aside for the moment. There was no one worth torturing in the room and besides, my jaw was a bit tired. And besides, I was troubled. Very troubled.

Should I go with Damion? "No" was my immediate answer. But what could I do?

When I say, "What could I do?", I don't mean it as a rhetorical question. I am seriously asking about what possibilities I could explore. Unfortunately, the only thing that came to mind was escaping, which had proven a failure.

_What can I do?_

I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but apparently it had escaped me because Lord asked "About what?"

I glared at it. This was a specimen of a human-trained Pokemon. I wasn't pleased with what I saw. I picked up my squeaky ball with my forelegs. Its Poke Ball shape suddenly disgusted me. I threw it away, and it rolled under The Couch.

Lord tilted its head from side to side as it thought. "You are afraid of Damion?"

"No," I snarled. I wasn't afraid of any human, least of all that aggravating boy.

"You are afraid of captivity?"

_Not afraid_. But wary. Very wary.

Lord fluttered to the floor and hopped over to where I was sitting to look me curiously in the eye. "What are you afraid of, then?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," I growled. "But I am _not_ going to be dragged behind a human boy so he can use me as a tool to gather glory."

"What makes you think Damion wants glory?"

"It's all humans want."

Lord looked surprised, and I wondered briefly if my tone had changed from its normal fierceness while I stated this fact. I didn't think so and glared at it.

Lord was thoughtful. "Well, you do have a choice."

"I don't!" I said angrily, in frustration. "I don't have a choice in anything of the matter!"

"But you do," Lord insisted. "You have the choice to go willingly, or go unwillingly."

My scowl deepened. I had been pondering choices more along the lines of "go" and "not go". "What kind of choice is that?"

Lord shrugged its wings. "A fair one. You can choose either." When I snorted and made to get away from this annoying creature, it added, "You said a moment ago that you didn't want to be dragged behind him. Why not drag him behind you?"

A cynical bark of a laugh escaped me. Lord continued, "Or neither one could be dragged, which is more appealing. Walk side by side."

"Humans are not equal to me," I said, angry that the bird seemed unable to get that in mind.

Lord shrugged again. "Go willingly. You may be surprised with what you discover." With that, it retreated to its perch.

I snorted. Nothing could be discovered that I didn't already know.

Ah. My eyes widened. But there _was_ one thing:

Why was I a Bagon? And how do I obtain my body back?

For the first time it dawned on me that Damion finding me may have been set up beforehand by Ho-Oh. My lip curled at the thought, and hatred for the bird bubbled up inside of me. It subsided, though, because I realized that the odds of this being the case were slim: Ho-Oh had said that sending the Tropius to get me away from the Human Death Machine would be its final service to me (though a fat a lot of good that did me, when the humans from the machine still found me a mere week later).

I pondered this more. Even if Ho-Oh had not meant for me to encounter the human boy, I might still run into it in the travels. Or find answers. According to Lord's description of a Trainer, the boy was going to travel. I would simply find the way out of this mess before he could use me for his gain. I bit my lip as doubt flooded into me: would I be able to do it? I pushed the doubt away, unwilling to consider my inability to do something.

After several moments of frustrated pondering, I finally came to the decision to go with him quietly. This would be for my own personal gain as well as the fact that I had to. I didn't care what Lord said. I didn't have much of a choice in this matter.

The door opened and Damion re-entered.

"What did he say?" Aldemar called from the room.

"He declined," Damion said with a shrug. "Ah, well. I offered." He saw me and seemed surprised for a moment that I wasn't chewing on the ball. Maybe he thought that I just couldn't reach it under The Couch, because he came over and fetched it. Giving it back to me, he said, "Come on, Ray. Let's go pack."

* * *

The room that Damion had declared his domain was much smaller than the living room, which was not large by any means. There was only room enough for the thing that humans sleep on—beds (though how they think their dirty selves above sleeping on the ground like every other species is beyond me)—and a small desk with a strange machine on it.

The machine was very interesting. Damion wiggled an orb-shaped object connected to the giant cube by a cord, and suddenly the screen blinked on. I watched it warily.

"Like the computer, Ray?" Damion unplugged the computer and the screen went black. He hefted it into a big box that was waiting on his bed. "I'm giving it to Grandad to sell. It's ancient, but maybe he can still get a fair amount of money from it."

After the box was sealed shut and removed from the bed, the boy dragged an old backpack out of the closet and set it on the mattress. He unzipped several of the sections and peered inside. "Wow. There's a lot more space in here than I'd thought. We'll still have to pack pretty light, though . . ."

From his closet he pulled the bags retrieved days earlier from Mr. Grocer, as well as some of the strange fur that humans cloak themselves with. "No reason to pack more than one T-shirt and jeans," he explained of them as if I was listening, placing them in the bag. "That makes two including what I'm wearing. Should be more than enough."

I didn't want to dwell on the thought of leaving with this human tomorrow. I'd settled that I would go with him, but if my thoughts lingered too long on the subject, I may change my mind. Instead, I amused myself by imagining all the painful things I'd do to this human, given the chance, before I would kill him.

Next he put in something called "Tent in a Tube", a small, cylinder-shaped container, his food and mine, a few bottles of water, and a pot small enough to carry for cooking, among other human necessities. In the smaller pocket he put some snacks and other small items that could be pulled out fairly quickly. And in the smallest pocket that was most easily accessed, he put Poke Balls and a strange item that for some reason reminded me of the computer.

He looked at that last item for a moment in amusement. "I got this Pokedex years ago. I wonder how old it must look compared to the newer versions."

A few more minutes were spent with the packing, but he didn't appear to have much. When he was finished he set the bag by the door with his hat and jacket on top of it. "Whew," he said, sitting down on the bed. "Hope I didn't forget anything."

Since he was done, I sensed that he would be retiring for the night soon. I was out of the room the second he opened the door, and went back to my familiar corner in the living room, where I curled into a ball. My heart thudded and I wondered what tomorrow and the following days would bring. It couldn't be fortune. I'd have to be prepared.

Before I allowed myself to sleep, I ate a bit from the bag that was still on the table—I'd gotten the food myself, so that was acceptable enough. Then I made sure that my guard was up and stable, so I could be mentally prepared for whatever the travels may bring. When I was content, I allowed for sleep to come.

* * *

Morning came early. The humans were up at the first sign of dawn. A quick breakfast was eaten. Neither the old man nor his grandhatchling spoke a word.

When the meal was finished, Damion retreated to his room while Aldemar sat at the table, staring at nothing in particular. I waited in complete silence, unwilling to dwell on the disgusting thing I was doing by travelling with a Trainer.

"Remember," Lord said to me, breaking the silence, "control your Rage. Given enough time, you'll find you won't even need it."

"Pah."

I built a wall in my mind to block out Lord's incessant chatter should I need to, but the bird didn't speak again.

Finally Damion emerged from his lair with his hat, jacket, and bag. At his waist was a belt with a single Poke Ball: mine.

There was an awkward moment between the two of them that I barely acknowledged. "Uh . . . bye, Pa."

Aldemar rose from the table. "Hold on, Damion. I have something for you." He left for his room for a moment, and emerged minutes later with a rectangular object in his hands, which he extended towards Damion. "Here."

Damion stared at it in disbelief. "This is your badge case."

"Yours now. A gift of luck." Aldemar smiled broadly. "May it do for you what it did for me."

"Hold as many badges as possible," Damion chuckled. He accepted the gift and his grin faded, replaced with seriousness. "Thank you, Grandpa."

Aldemar clapped him on the shoulder. "Your parents would be proud." Before Damion could react to this, however, Aldemar shoved him playfully towards the door. "Now get going. I've always hated long good-byes. You need to start your journey." He laughed. "I've waited six years to say that, so now I'm going to say it again: You need to start your journey!"

"Very funny!" Damion opened the door. "Ray, come on. Pa, uh . . . take care."

With that, he stepped outside. I jumped down the porch stairs, impatient to be moving and outside again after my time locked up in the abode. The early morning was chill on my scales, but I didn't mind it. The rising sun cast light on the street, making it seem warmer.

Aldemar watched as we trudged down the road. As we got to the first turn and vanished from his sight, the door shut slowly.

"Well, Ray." Damion took a deep breath of the morning air. "I can't believe I'm finally leaving. It's a weird feeling, isn't it?"

I made sure that I was ahead of him, which was difficult to do: frustratingly enough, one of his strides was equivalent to three of mine.

"'Take care'," he chuckled. "Ten years of living with your grandfather and and all I can say in good-bye is, 'take care'. Ah, well."

The rest of the way was walked in silence while the sun continued to climb. When we reached the town gate, the sun was almost clear of the treetops.

I could tell that Damion was both excited and fearful, though he didn't show it. "This is it. As soon as we set foot beyond that gate—"

"Hey! Wait!"

We whipped around to see the one-armed boy running after us. When he reached the gate, he came to an abrupt stop, panting.

Dante looked Damion straight in the eye. He was a solemn-faced boy with distant eyes. He had a shoulder bag, no doubt because a backpack like Damion's would be awkward to carry with only one arm to support it. The bag was packed with things that looked like they were scrounged up at the last minute.

"I'm coming with you."


	8. Origin of Rebellion

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

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**Of all things, the Poke Ball was my greatest obstacle.

The Poke Ball was the one thing that tied me to the human. It was the very _symbol_ of that bond. Every time I looked at it I remembered that I was a human's slave. It was the one thing that allowed him to control me. In a second, it could take the most powerful creature in the world and make it vanish from existence until it's called upon by the human, sent back out to do its bidding. I don't know what those balls are, exactly, but they are obviously powerful and dangerous if they could manage to control even me.

It was a curious thing, but it was also very unnerving. I was beginning to feel as if I would do anything to avoid being put in the ball. The very thought of being contained made uneasiness swell up in my throat. I wanted to be nowhere near the ball, much less inside of it. I almost disgust myself when I wonder how far, exactly, I would go to not be recalled to the ball. I'd followed human orders already, to avoid it.

Whenever I tried to think about what could be done about this predicament, my pride flared up and I thought for a moment that I might be able to do it. But then the uneasiness came back and quelled the fire. Doing anything could risk my being in the ball.

So I was quiet.

* * *

I struggled to keep my growl under control as I plodded ahead of the two humans. I wanted to scream. What was I, a human magnet? After years upon years of solitude, in just over two weeks _humans_ have killed me, those very same _humans_ then attacked me, I've been caught in a whole town of _humans_, a _human_ caught me and took me home to his _human_ grandfather and said grandfather's _human_-loving bird, and now another _human_ boy had joined us. My head ached just trying to keep track of if all.

I wanted to ignore the humans, I really did. To block them from me. But it was difficult to do. Dante was easy enough to ignore, but Damion had captured me. He'd _captured _me, and bested me and controlled me when I tried to escape. That was a very difficult thing to ignore.

Since we left the town's boundaries neither had said a word, which was a small relief. Dante gave no sign of desiring a conversation, and Damion didn't seem to mind. And the town was fading, the woods were growing. The scents of wild, untamed greenery washed over me, and I basked in them. But it was nothing to the sky. I welcomed the peace and quiet that had met us thus far in the forest, but the sky . . . I longed for the sky. I gazed up at it, bright and blue and welcoming, above the treetops.

Miserably, I plunged on. It was at times like these, when my heart begged for the sky, that what I really wanted to do was lay down and sleep all the pain away, until I myself wilted away as if I never had been. My pride banished such thoughts; it wouldn't let me give in so easily. My pride was the only thing that kept me going, forced me to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and for this reason I listened to it attentively. To prove to myself that I wouldn't give in, as I walked, I began to search for a boulder to throw myself off of to fly.

Eventually, walking down the path brought us to a fork in the road. Each way was marked with a sign. Damion turned down the one to the right, and I grudgingly followed. Dante stayed where he was, shifting nervously.

Damion stopped and turned around, furrowing his brow. He jerked his thumb behind him, down the path. "This is the way to Petalburg."

"I can read," Dante said sarcastically. "Actually, I, uh, need to go to Littleroot."

Damion was surprised and impulsively asked, "Why?"

Dante was pulling something out of his pocket. Damion walked over to see what it was. I didn't feel like walking wherever he went like a dog, so I sat down where I was on the road and fumed in silence.

Damion's frown increased as his eyes traveled over the little sheet of paper. "An invitation from Professor Birch? For your first Pokemon," he added as he read.

Dante didn't answer, which confirmed that Damion was correct. When Damion was through reading, Dante stuffed it back into his pocket. "If you never used it anyway, why do you still have it?"

Dante began to walk down the road to Littleroot. Damion didn't stop him and shrugged in my direction, gesturing that we were going to follow. With an aggravated sigh, I did, wanting to kill him even more for that gesture. Simple gestures like that showed that he thought he had enough control over me to simply make a sign, and I would understand and obey the unspoken command. What angered me further was the fact that I was doing it. I wondered briefly if being in the ball would really be so bad if it allowed me to escape all this. The memory of the ball wormed its way to the front of my mind and I shuddered, shoving the horrible thought away as quickly as I could. Yes. Yes, it would. That ball was horrible and terrifying, it and everything that it symbolized.

Once Dante was sure that we were indeed going to Littleroot, he began to further explain. "I didn't use it when I was old enough to because I have no siblings. I _thought_ that if I left . . . well, that my parents may be a bit upset, and lonely." He shrugged almost absentmindedly. "Besides, I was never really into battling. And even if I'd wanted to go, when this happened—" he gestured lazily to his armless side, "—my parents would have never—" His eyes widened and he snapped his mouth shut.

"Let you," Damion finished. Dante flinched. "And they would have never let you leave now, either."

Dante inhaled deeply, and slowly let it out again. "No," he said icily.

They'd stopped walking now. Dante looked tired and worn. The iciness in his previous statement was gone from his eyes; instead, they looked empty and bland. His shoulders sagged in defeat. "Well? Are we going back to Oldale, then?"

"Huh?"

Now Dante's eyes narrowed, as if he thought Damion was playing games with him. I looked back and forth between them impatiently, wondering when, exactly, they would halt the chatter and be moving again. "You've found me out. I ran away, and you've caught me. I know you like to go by the rules and play it safe and all that junk—"

Damion raised his eyebrows further.

"—and you'll want to take me back now, since I don't have '_permission_'. Now . . . why are you laughing?" he demanded.

I looked to Damion, who was indeed laughing. He broke off with the laughter, but a large grin was in place on his face. "Me. Going by the rules, playing it safe. What, do you think I'm a pansy or something?"

He continued down the road with a lighter gait. Dante looked genuinely confused as he followed. I was just plain annoyed. I wondered for a fleeting moment if Damion would put me in the Poke Ball for throwing a rock at his head, or Dante's. It really didn't matter to me who it was, as long as I had someone to take my fury out on. My eyes fell on the ball and I shuddered again, more violently. Better not risk it.

"Well . . . so what if I did?" Dante defended. "You know, you always did all the household chores and shopping; even if it was for your grandfather, it's common knowledge that Aldemar is in perfect health and can do it himself yet you did it anyway—and when you waited six years to get a Pokemon just to have a stronger _friendship_ bond with it when most kids form bonds fine just getting one from the lab—I mean, well . . . you just seemed . . . the type . . . never mind." He trailed off, realizing how stupid his accusations sounded aloud. "It made more sense in my head."

Damion chuckled. "Growing up with Aldemar doesn't exactly teach you rules," he offered in explanation. "It teaches, more like moral values. There's a difference."

The ghost of a smile played on Dante's mouth. "I guess."

"Hey, pull that invitation back out." Dante complied, and Damion looked it over. "You never got your parents to sign it."

Dante nodded. "Yeah, that's one problem. And my signature of consent is already on the invitation, so I can't sign for my parents or anything, and I'm not great at faking signatures anyway . . ."

He trailed off as Damion pulled a pen out of his bag and forged the signatures. He handed them back.

"Uh . . . thanks," Dante said, and put it back in his pocket. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, though he had relaxed considerably from the time we'd left Oldale's boundaries.

I finally found a decent-sized boulder and jumped off of it, throwing my whole very being and willpower into flight. It didn't work; I fell to the ground in a second.

A second. _Well then_, I reasoned, _obviously the boulder wasn't high enough if that was all. I couldn't possibly fly off of something so low._

So I continued to hunt. The chatter between the two humans had died down a bit, mostly focusing on what Pokemon Dante thought he would obtain. Dante said he didn't really know, and an awkward silence fell between them. I sought out a few more boulders and jumped off of them. None of my jumps gave me flight, so I assumed that they might also be too low. In frustration, I rammed my head against the nearest tree, spraying bark around me.

"What's your Bagon doing?"

"I'm not sure." Damion fished his Pokedex out of one of the bag's outside pockets and pointed it at me. I took note of it warily, but decided to continue my search for a boulder.

"Dreaming of one day flying, it practices by leaping off cliffs every day," Damion read. "Each time it fails, it slams its head against anything it can find as if to dispel its frustration."

They exchanged glances and shrugged. I found that there were very few boulders worth leaping off of alongside the road. Most of them rose barely six inches above the ground. I jumped off of them anyway, unwilling to let any opportunity pass by, but with the same result each time. At first I could push the feeling away, but discouragement became harder and harder to ignore. Also, the Poke Ball kept catching my eye, and uneasiness again bubbled up inside of me. That and the unbearable discouragement together made me want to rip myself to shreds to end the inner turmoil.

I heard Damion and Dante conclude, after examining the map, that our destination was about a day's walk from Oldale. The two towns were fairly near each other, nearer than any other two locations in Hoenn. Apparently they were pleased with this time, saying that we could be there in the afternoon. I couldn't resist the thought that I could fly that very same distance in a mere fraction of the time.

It was very difficult to trudge along. First of all, although I was more accustomed to it now, walking was not my forte. Second, although the shade provided by the trees did help with the heat, the sun still managed to beat down mercilessly on my scales. And there was no wind to relieve me, other than the brief, occasional gust. The slow pace at which we moved and my own, frustrating emotions of conflict did nothing but add to the discomfort.

It was slow work, indeed. Damion got out my squeaky ball, but I didn't take it. Rather, just looking at it and the way it was styled after a Poke Ball made my stomach churn. I refused it. When he, confused, tried to give it to me again, I thrashed out and sent it sprawling. Dante was closest to where it landed and returned it to Damion, who shrugged. He didn't take it out again.

As our feet carried us farther and farther away from Oldale, Dante seemed to relax a bit more. "You didn't seem surprised that my parents didn't give me permission."

Damion shrugged. "I figured that that might be the case. Even when I invited you I had a pretty good idea that would happen if you accepted."

"Huh."

The "huh" was said as a statement, as an exhalation of bewilderment. Not much else was said, other than the occasional comment about the weather or something similar.

We stopped a few times to rest our aching feet—I hate to admit it, but although I can endure great pain, this kind of aching was new to me because I've never walked before. Most pain, I'd assumed, came from battling and fighting and such, not simply everyday things like walking. I found it even more ironic that walking didn't hurt my feet half as much as resting did. It was like when I was walking the pain was left behind, and when I stopped for resting it caught up with me. So, rather than sit down, I took to bouncing from foot to foot during these brief resting periods.

By this time I was deeply upset. Now not only the fact that I had to battle for Damion bothered me, but now I knew what it was like to travel to do it. Travelling is a very lengthy process that is only enjoyable if one had wanted to do it in the first place, and had a goal to be reached by doing it. Travelling so much to battle pointlessly was, in turn, pointless. This was very frustrating to my mind. So, for most of the journey, I focused on building the wall in my mind. Keeping my mind blank by building the wall managed to calm my mind for the moment, and also time seemed to go by more quickly because by keeping my mind blank, I kept track of nothing. Not even time.

When the trees finally started to thin out I snapped to attention, aware that the civilization they sought must, and the end to the day's walking, be close by. Sure enough, the path led to the top of a hill that overlooked a town even smaller than Oldale.

Damion and Dante sped up, as did I so as not to be left behind. I jumped to the front of them to set the pace. Once the buildings and general layout of the town became clear, I saw that its boundaries only encompassed a few blocks of houses. One small shop, and the rest were houses. Cottages, they could even be called, for they were small. All of the abodes looked exactly the same, except for one large building that was positioned away from the rest of the town.

"That's the lab," Dante said, checking the map scribbled, and smeared over the years, on his invitation.

The path, at the base of the hill, wound its way through the town and continued to the door of the lab. We followed it. All in all, Littleroot was a very quiet, peaceful town. Little stirred in it other than a few young, human hatchlings playing about, or humans tending to their gardens.

The town itself did not take long to navigate, and soon the lab door loomed up in front of us. For the first time, Dante looked nervous. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking at nothing and no one in particular.

I was getting very impatient and let out a growl. Dante took a deep breath and put his hand on the knob to turn it, but before he could it seemed to turn of its own accord, and the door swung open.

In the doorway stood a human man that seemed somewhat surprised to see us on his doorstep. "Yes? How can I help you?"

Dante cleared his throat and asked, "Are you Professor Birch?"

"That I am Professor Birch, as are all of my forefathers before me." He looked Dante up and down, then Damion, and me. "Uh, are you here for your first Pokemon?"

Damion shook his head and gestured to me. "Not me."

But Dante nodded and the professor led us inside.

There was nothing worth describing in the lab, but for some reason it made me feel awkward. The floors seemed spotless. I could see myself in the tiles if I only glanced down. It was somewhat unnerving. Unnatural.

Professor Birch led us into a room with three Poke Balls on a table. I flinched at the sight of the balls and almost slowed down, before I realized that these balls were not meant for me. I was still wary. He glanced at me as we walked. "I've never seen a ring like that on a Bagon before. Do you have any idea where it's from?"

Damion shook his head. "Not in the slightest."

"Hmm." The professor stood by the table idly, thinking, looking at nothing in particular. Suddenly he remembered where he was and why, and his eyes came back to focus. "Right. Do you have your invitation?"

Dante reached into his pocket and retrieved it, handing it over to the professor. He was holding it so tightly that it seemed for a moment it seemed as though he wouldn't let go. He held his breath and waited while the professor glanced at it.

Professor Birch skimmed over the signatures and appeared to be more interested in the yellowed state of the invitation. "How long ago did you receive this invitation, young man?"

"About six years ago."

"Six years! I thought you looked a little old to be getting your first Pokemon." He shrugged and put the invitation in his pocket. "No matter. It's a good thing for you that these don't expire." He laughed. "Okay, young man. It's time to choose. You have the choice of Torchic, Mudkip, and Treecko."

As he said each of their names, he tapped their ball, and the respective Pokemon appeared on the floor: a small, orange bird; a blue, four-legged, fish-like creature, and something that was similar to that of a gecko.

"Which would you like as your partner?"

I sized each of them up. I was bigger than both the bird and the Mudkip. Their eyes were blank, though, and I wasted little of my precious time focusing on them. The Treecko was more interesting because there was something different about it. It was about my height, though my weight still far outmatched it. It seemed more capable than the other two. More sure of being on its own two feet and more comfortable in its abilities. It was confident.

It was also the only one of the three that looked Dante straight in the eye.

* * *

"That was more difficult than I thought it would be," Dante moaned.

The trip to the lab had taken unexpectedly long. It had taken multiple trips throughout the late afternoon, with breaks in between each trip, for Dante to finally decide on his partner. When he had, it was late enough for the humans to decide to rest until tomorrow.

The town had no Pokemon Center or inn, so they were forced to make camp under a patch of trees. It was a clear night, so they didn't bother setting up the tent.

I was too full of my own thoughts to find amusement in the boys' attempts to cook; in the end they just pulled out what they could find to make a meal from their bags. I was curious about the Dante's choice, the Treecko. He had been named Pippo.

Damion shrugged. Dante was resting with his back against a tree, while Damion lay stretched out in the grass. "That's another reason why I waited. Didn't want to deal with the stress of _picking_ one to form a bond with. Treecko seems a good choice, though."

Dante nodded absentmindedly.

Pippo was a curious creature. It scrambled up the trees, jumped from treetop to treetop, and always returned, only to take off a second later. It had hardly said a word, not that I'd prompted conversation from it. It was leaving me alone, as I wanted because it was even easier for me not to take note of it. Honestly, so far the creature was taking form as a rather unintelligent creature in my mind. I didn't care enough to think otherwise.

It was night. The humans were on their bedrolls. I was curled into a ball on the grass when a thought ocurred to me. If the humans were going to sleep, could I escape? Would travelling on my own be just as effective? I could do it, sure, but the humans seemed to know this territory better. My pride screamed for me to run, but an inkling of reason cried for me to wait and see.

I wondered when that small bit of reason came to be. Power, pride, dignity, they were all that mattered.

_Go willingly_, Lord had said. _You may be surprised with what you discover_. Ah. So that was when.

It was silly of me to remember the bird now, if at all. He didn't even know my predicament. I'd never told him of Ho-oh. He hadn't meant by that statement that I would find answers regarding why I was a Bagon, and I knew it. He'd meant travelling, human partnership, and everything else that human-loving, low-life creatures spoke of. What the bird may have known, however, was that the statement might have a double meaning for me. It just didn't know what that double meaning was.

But before I could even decide if I should escape, and how to exactly do it, Damion outstretched his hand that held the Friend Ball. I was confused because I hadn't yet done anything to incline him to put me in the ball. Then I was afraid because I knew what was coming once the ball claimed me. And then I was furious.

And then I felt nothing as I was recalled into the ball.


	9. Powder Keg

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its contents.**

* * *

_He still put me in the ball._

_Was he justified?_

_I did nothing out of place!_

_You were thinking of running away._

_But he did not know that! He had no reason to put me in it at the time!_

_He knew you would attempt to do so._

_I still had shown no sign of running; how could he be justified if I had not yet done anything? _

_You were plotting to do so, and he knew it. He would have to be ignorant to overlook the possibility—the_ probability_—of it._

_But I hadn't! Humans have not the right to contain me, anyway!_

I banished both voices of reason. My mind had been at war since I was released from the ball. I felt like it was being ripped apart.

I was angry. I was angry at Damion, at the ball, at _myself_, for making myself so docile. It was disgusting. I disgusted myself.

* * *

I lagged behind the group purposefully. Solitude was found only in isolation. And with my mind roiling as it was, I wished for nothing more than solitude.

Damion was trying to ignite a conversation between himself and Dante, with no success. The latter simply didn't seem interested in conversing, he was too absorbed in fiddling with his Pokedex. Damion relented after a final, failed attempt and, with a shrug, took out a map to trace their progress.

Pippo rode upon Dante's shoulder, gazing at the world around it. I still had doubts about the intelligence of the creature, as it still had not cared to speak a word, but it really didn't concern me enough to pursue the creature and spark conversation with it. I was too busy puzzling over my own problems to waste time on such a creature.

I was so confused. I didn't want to be docile. If I remained docile, I would be practically surrendering myself to the Trainer as its slave.

_Go willingly_, Lord had said. Ha. I couldn't help but snort with amusement every time I thought of the bird. And look where that had gotten me.

If only I'd realized that he didn't mean to 'go willingly'. He'd meant to sell my heart to the human boy. I understood that now. Perhaps if I hadn't taken it so literally, I wouldn't be in my present situation!

No. That was a lie. Either way, I would be in this situation. I'd gone 'willingly', and I was in the ball. If I'd resisted, I'd just have been put in the ball more often. If I'd resisted, though, would I have a greater right to walk with my head held high? Should I resist, since either way I'd be in the ball in the end, anyway? But it wouldn't even do anything more than doing nothing does! I'd vanish from existence, and my effort would be for naught!

I sighed heavily. So caught up in my thoughts was I that I didn't notice the large pebble in my path. I tripped over it. With a strangled roar, I took the trouble to run back to it and kick it, sending it hurtling into the woods. Was the entire world out to get me?!

A growl sounded from the bushes, where the pebble had landed. Damion and Dante turned to see what was going on. From the undergrowth emerged a small, four-legged creature with patches of brown and cream-colored fur. It was a rather nasty-looking Zigzagoon, frightening for its species, that glared out at me from within the black mask of fur across its face. It bared its fangs at me and rose up on its hind legs, ready to thrash out sharply with its claws. It growled and advanced towards me, wishing to slash me to shreds. Apparently it wasn't happy that my pebble had landed in its den.

Well, I wasn't happy either. I had a Poke Ball, unlike this creature, and I . . . _I_, Rayquaza . . . surely was displeased with this creature _threatening _me.

My rage must have shown through my eyes because the Zigzagoon faltered. Damion was starting to come forward, no doubt to "aid" me in battle. Pah. I would show him that, not only would I pick my own battles, I would fight them, too. _Alone_.

Before the Zigzagoon could figure what to do next, I rammed myself into its stomach and sent it hurtling backwards. It flew into the bushes. With a snarl, I made to gave chase, but the creature was already running away with its tail between its legs.

With the battle over, I returned my attention to the path. I hated leaving the job of the battle undone, but I had not the heart to pursue it. Besides, pursuing it too far may only get me in the Poke Ball. It was only then that I realized I had used a small bit of Rage's power without even noticing.

I faltered, needing to catch my breath. Even that small bit of Rage could tire my body. But, this pleased me. If only a small bit of the power of Rage could do that, then my Rage was most definately gaining power.

Damion looked at me strangely. I glared back up at him. I had fought on my own and I had been victorious in seconds. Let him make of that what he would.

For a moment we just stared at each other as if this was a trial of wills. Then, with a sigh, he pulled the map again from his pocket and returned to the head of the group.

I returned my attention to my own matters and fumed. How dare that foul excuse of a Pokemon challenge me. Me! And think that, going into the battle, it could win! I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve _any_ of this!

I shut my eyes and shook my head, frustrated. I didn't deserve this, so why was this happening to me! I shouldn't be here. I should be in the sky! I squeezed my eyes shut even more, wishing desperately that this could all be a bad dream that I would wake up from one day and forget.

At least shutting my eyes kept out the world around me, even if it did nothing to ease my raging thoughts.

"You are not a typical Pokemon, are you?"

I opened my eyes to glare at the source of the statement. Pippo was plodding on all fours beside me.

"No, I am not," I snarled. Wanting to be left alone, I snapped my teeth down near where the Treecko's ears would be. It didn't back away and only tilted its head, examining me. A growl rumbled deep in my throat, so forceful that it shook my entire body.

"Very well," the Treecko said, and distanced itself from me. I allowed my growl to subside, but the fact that it still dared to be within ten feet of me when I had made it so obviously clear that I wished to be alone was unnerving.

However, when it showed no sign of further conversation, I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly. Pippo's interruption had turned my mind away from my problems for the moment, and I decided to keep it that way for now. I would further ponder my next course of action later.

Without my own thoughts to turn my attention to, I couldn't help but overhear what the humans were saying. They had recently started an argument over the map. Damion was saying something about sticking to the main path, while Dante wanted to cut through the woods.

"I don't get it," Damion said in annoyance.

Dante heaved a sigh of exasperation and traced a path across the map. "_Look_. If you go through here, you can get to Rustboro a few hours earlier than by taking the main path, and you won't have to deal with the mess of Petalburg."

"But I want to go to Petalburg. Don't they have a Gym there?"

"Well, yeah," Dante said. It was obvious that he hadn't expected this turn of events. "But, uh, isn't the Gym there Norman's?"

"Yeah," Damion said, confused. "Last time I checked."

Dante let go of the map and retreated a few steps, walking alone again. "Norman's one of the more experienced Gym Leaders."

"I'm aware of that," Damion said, rolling up the map and pocketing it. "But I thought it would be worth at least looking at. Who knows when we might be able to come back?"

Dante relented and shrugged, showing that he really didn't care one way or another. It didn't apply to him, after all. "Whatever."

"Well," Pippo said sarcastically as Dante and Damion distanced themselves again. "Isn't this a happy group?" When I showed no sign of acknowledging its statement, it sighed. "I suppose you truly wish not to speak?"

My silence should have been answer enough, but it pressed forward, seeking an answer. "I said, do you truly wish not to—"

"I know what you said!" I bellowed. "No, I have no desire to speak. Now leave me be!"

Pippo shrank back. Silence ensued. After a few more moments, it ran up to Dante and jumped to his shoulder. It didn't speak with me again while we were walking. Rather, it contented itself with glancing at me every now and then.

I resolved to ignore it and tried to enjoy my newfound peace. But I couldn't. It wasn't the peace I was used to. It wasn't the sky and, even worse and of more importance, my indecision over how to react to the problem posed by the Poke Ball continued to plague me.

* * *

The Treecko tried to approach me again that night, while camp was being set up. While Dante and Damion struggled with the tent, it visited me while I lounged among the thick, aged roots of a giant tree. It had giant, leafed branches that reached out overhead like a canopy, so the moonlight that filtered through was dappled across the grass. The humans really didn't even need a tent, but it was cloudy and they were expecting rain. Whether or not it rained, however, did not apply to me, because I would no doubt be in the ball by the time the first drops began to fall.

It was very frustrating. I could run, and be put in the ball sooner than usual. Damion was making sure to keep an eye on me as they set up the tent. Or, I could not run, and still be put in the ball. Out of the two, I would pick to run away. At least it was making a stand. But this baby Bagon body tired easily after a day of walking. It was far from my beloved body that could fly for weeks on end without rest.

Besides, I didn't know if I should make a move, and what that move should be. What to do . . . what to _do_ . . .

I stood up and rammed my head into the tree, sending a tremor through it that shook a few leaves from its branches. I roared miserably, desperately, angrily. Damion paused to look at me, sighed, and then returned to the tent.

It was then that Pippo appeared, bounding onto one of the curling roots to stare down at me. "I have been meaning to ask you. May I call you P.K.?"

It received a stony glare in response. "No. No, you may not. You may call me Rayquaza, and Rayquaza only."

"Oh. That's too bad. I found it rather fitting."

I snorted.

"It stands for Powder Keg."

I was already so, so unbelievably angry and confused, and now I was unsure if I had just been offended; I opened my mouth to fire an attack at it, my Hyper Beam, but nothing came out.

For a moment I was sullen. It was so easy to forget that I was a Bagon when, for so long, when I felt angry and confused all I'd had to do was open my mouth and the problem would be destroyed.

But I recovered quickly and jumped at the Treecko. It was too fast for me and leaped over my head, attaching itself to the tree trunk. It was conveniently just out of my reach.

I screeched in fury. I was so sick of Pokemon taking advantage of my weaknesses, weaknesses that weren't even mine! It was the Bagon, it was the stupid, thrice-cursed Bagon, that prohibited me from attacking anything like I would in my former body.

Why was this happening, oh, why was this happening to me!

I wanted to wail. I wanted to release such a blood-curdling scream that could just stop time and stop everything so that this horror wouldn't go on living.

Pippo fiddled with a loose bit of bark on the tree trunk regretfully. "I am sorry," it apologized. "My intention was not to—"

"Silence!" I rammed myself against the trunk again, shaking the tree, though the Treecko had no trouble with retaining its hold. There! Let it defy me again if it dared.

I ran away from the tree and settled down in the grass, breathing heavily. I felt like something big, something explosive, was bottled up inside of me, barely contained. But I didn't know how to ignite it. I didn't know if I wanted it ignited. I poked and prodded at it as if I could get a response, but it was like a volcano in slumber. Nothing could prompt it forward until its time came.

Damion and Dante had managed to finish with the job of setting up the tent. They had set up their bedrolls. I glanced up to the stars, wishing that I could again be among them, and I saw that the moon was high in the sky. That meant that it was time for me to return to the ball.

I stood up to meet my demise, holding my head high and proud as Damion approached. He took out the ball. "I'm sorry, Ray," he said. "I know you really hate this ball, I do. But if I don't do this, I know you'll run away. I've tried to think of an alternative, but . . ."

He shook his head and, with a final, grim sigh, held the ball before him. In the second I had left, I glared at him with hatred so strikingly pure that no other emotion could touch it. Then it vanished along with myself as the white light consumed me.


	10. Confusion

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its contents.**

* * *

However stubborn Damion may be, once we had trekked to the peak of the hill overlooking the sheer largeness of Petalburg City, the first of his doubts began to show.

Petalburg was large, much larger than Oldale. Although I had seen many cities much grander than it in my time, its humble size seemed to awe the Oldale boys. I had to admit as well that everything looked much bigger now that I was a mere two feet tall.

None of the buildings were mansions, or the tall buildings that reached to the sky like the ones in a larger metropolis. Most of the buildings were homes, and most homes were only one or two floors. These homes existed in many clusters that ultimately made up the size of the city. Most of the people that roamed the smaller streets were hatchlings at play, except for the occasional man or woman, and on the busier streets there were would be many Miniature Death Machines driving by.

Our destination had been the "Gym", a great domed building with a plaque above the door engraved with the images of the human man in charge of the Gym and his Pokemon partners. Damion, then confronted with the greatness of the existence of the Gym before him and the images of the powerful Pokemon inside, had been even more uncertain.

"It appears his reason has finally caught up with him," Pippo observed.

Our group ended up in a small restaurant across the street from the Gym. Damion and Dante were consuming some sort of substance called a "milkshake" while they mulled the problem over. They had ordered two more and given one to Pippo and one to myself, as well. Pippo was eagerly downing his. I hadn't touched mine.

"If you are not going to eat yours, might I have it?" Pippo asked, unnecessarily gesturing to my milkshake.

I glared at it and then at the milkshake. I kicked it over in response. It tipped and spilled its contents onto the floor.

"Whoa, Ray!" Damion grabbed a few napkins from the table and set to wiping up the mess.

"What'd you do that for?" Pippo demanded.

I shrugged.

"Are you just shrugging, or do you really not know?" the Treecko pressed, scowling at me.

"Will you be quiet?" I growled.

"_No_, I don't think I will!"

He and I began to verbally berate each other, trying to talk the other into submission. While he and I bickered, Damion finished wiping up the mess and went to a nearby garbage container to throw the napkins away. When he returned to the table, he collapsed in his seat with a heavy sigh.

Presently he said, "I can't beat Norman like this, can I?"

Dante shrugged, too busy playing with his straw to bother showing whether or not he cared. "Guess not."

Laughter peeled from the booth behind them. The head of a boy a few years younger than Damion and Dante appeared above the seat, looking down at them. "Sorry," he apologized with a grin. "But I couldn't help wondering if you'd ever even battled before."

"Not much . . . with Ray, no," Damion said indignantly, turning around in his seat to face the boy. This new interruption put a temporary end to my quarrel with Pippo, who jumped up to the table and began to consume what was left of Dante's milkshake, leaving me to grumble to myself on the floor. Dante didn't seem to mind and let him have the rest, sliding across the seat to look out the window.

"No need to get defensive about it. How 'bout I battle you? That way maybe you can get a ballpark figure of how good you are. If you're maybe good enough for Norman. I've got three badges, see, and while I'm visiting family here I thought I'd challenge him again. He still beat me, though . . . by the way, my name's Sam." The boy stretched a hand over the top of the seat in delayed greeting.

"Damion," Damion returned. He took a sideways glance at me, thinking the offer over. "It couldn't hurt," he agreed, and took the hand offered him.

* * *

Once we were outside in a desolate area, with Damion and Sam facing each other with about a hundred yards in between them, I realized they were intending to battle. This knowledge almost came with a relief, for I was so bursting with pent-up rage that it felt as if it would devour me alive.

It was a strange set-up. I faintly remembered Lord educating me in how the battles were set up, but it was a bit different in person. I found the presence of the two humans, in this case Sam and Damion, to be rather unnerving and in the way. By focusing on my purpose, however—to destroy the enemy—I was able to push them out of my mind. Out of mind, out of sight.

Sam took out one of his Poke Balls while I thought about the feeling of basking in the victory of ending the life that would be in front of me. If it was in front of me, it was in my way, and destroying it would be a pleasure. I was distracted, unfortunately, from such thoughts, as I realized that I possessed no mastery of my current body.

"Dusty!" Sam called as the ball flew from his hands. A white bolt popped it open and took the shape of a clumsily-flying Dustox.

"Dusty's newest to my team," Sam explained, holding up a total of four Poke Balls, including Dusty's. "It's only just recently evolved, so it should be a good opponent for a Pokemon that hasn't battled before."

The Dustox did seem a bit unused to its wings as it wobbled back and forth in the air. I laughed out loud at it, harshly. Never before had I seen something so ridiculous in the air! I wondered briefly how by the skies it had been bestowed with such a great a gift as flight. This would not take long. I would kill it instantly, and enjoy every minute.

"You can have the first move," Sam called.

"Ray—" Damion began.

I hopped forward, as running was still quite a difficult thing to do, until I was under the moth's shadow. Before I could do anything else, Sam called, "Gust!"

At the command, breezes of wind peeled from the Dustox's flapping wings. Though it didn't hurt much, it was difficult to fight against and the current pushed me farther and farther away from my victim with each passing second. Ignoring Damion's shouts—about rolling back and out of the way or some sort of thing similar—I put my head into the gust and pushed against it with all my might. My heavy head allowed me to make some progress against the current, slowly working my way back to the Dustox. At a sign from Sam, the Dustox stopped the barrage of wind immediately and I, who was now pushing so hard with no force pushing back, stumbled and fell forward.

Before I could get back up, my opponent took advantage of the moment and spat a thick, gooey web of string-like material from its mouth. Before I could get up, my forelegs were covered in the sticky stuff, and glued by it to the ground.

I grunted and snapped my head back up to see if it would attack again immediately, but the moth was nowhere to be seen. Damion was shouting, "Bite". It was with some amusement, and some annoyance, that I realized that this whole time he had been issuing orders to me—orders I had completely ignored.

"Ray, turn around and _Bite_!" he yelled.

I glared at him. There was nothing to Bite, fool. The moth was gone, hiding, probably. "You Bite!" I growled, and set to trying to yank my forelegs from the substance while I had a moment before another attack came on.

Apparently, however, Dusty was _not_ hiding. Under its Trainer's direction, it was coming in from behind me, where it was difficult for me to see while glued to the ground facing the other direction. I only saw it out of the corner of my eye at the last moment.

"Dusty!" Sam called in warning, having seen that I had finally seen where the Dustox was, but it was too late. I tapped into Rage, powerful, all-consuming, hate-filled Rage, and it immediately rushed through my mind and body. I ripped myself from the gooey mess of string and launched myself at the Dustox, which was trying to turn and fly away. But it was clumsy with its newly-evolved wings. I was able to knock it clean out of the air before it had a chance to flee.

It was slow in taking off again and lay twitching on the ground while I landed small distance away from it. Before it could gather itself to take flight again, I began to approach it.

"Confusion!" Sam yelled.

Dusty turned its eyes on me. Damion shouted for me to look away, but of course I took no heed of him. Then the eyes before me began to glow red and everything was thrown into chaos. Immediately, my head felt a bit fuzzy—I nearly lost sight of my purpose—and my eyesight blurred. My surroundings began to ripple as the water's surface might when several pebbles are dropped in at once, making it difficult to walk. My stomach rolled when I tried to walk, as if I were seasick, and I felt as if I were sleepwalking. I felt _awful_. I tried to make my way forward, towards the eyes still glowing red among all that chaos, but I tripped and fell forward.

By sheer chance, however, I had fallen right on top of the Dustox. It squealed as the full force of my hundred pounds landed on it and the attack faded.

As my head cleared, I decided that Confusion may be the single most frustrating attack I have ever encountered.

I sat upright, pinning my prey to the ground, and took a moment to revel in victory. "You are a pathetic creature," I snarled to it, "and _stupid_, to think you could win this fight."

"What?" Dusty squeaked. At first it simply looked surprised, but it grew more and more panicked as it felt me tense and bare my fangs. "What are you doing?"

Ignoring the increasingly frantic shouts around me, yelling for me to stop, I opened my jaws, ready to end this. My heart was already pounding, racing in my chest, preparing to release my torrent of anger upon this creature. My rage was summoned within me, burning through me, coursing through my veins like _fire_, and just before I could clamp my teeth down upon it and claim its life—

—a bolt of white light shot out and claimed it before I could.

The creature vanished from underneath me and I found myself sitting on the ground instead. Surprised, I snapped my head around in search of my prey and found myself glaring at Sam, who had recalled Dusty with a Poke Ball. After it was recalled there was a moment of intense silence.

"Did your—did your Bagon just try to kill my Dusty?" Sam demanded. He was shaking.

"I-I . . . I'm sorry," Damion stuttered.

Fury dancing like fire in his eyes, Sam turned and marched away without another word. Damion's shoulders slumped in defeat as he watched Sam stalk back to the busy streets and fade into the crowd. He seemed for the first time, lost, unsure of where to go or what to do next, so he simply stood where he was, lacking the will to move, for now that boy was upset, and it was Damion's responsibility. Dante showed no emotion at all, like he had hardly noticed the battle at all, and Pippo showed only faint surprise, like he had expected this to happen all along.

And I . . .

I expected to be angry, furious, that my prey had been stolen from me when I had come so close to uncapping my hate and rage, all that emotion bottled up. I expected to feel as if I could rampage and destroy endlessly to make up for the life. I had felt that several times, after all, and done so, not only in past weeks, but in past decades. Centuries. I waited several moments for the anger to come, ready for it, anticipating it.

But instead, I . . .

In all honesty, I was puzzled.

I was puzzled. Stumped. Confused.

Because I was _not_ angry.

* * *

This new confusion had nothing to do with what had been my opponent's last attack.

And I decided that confusion may be the single most frustrating thing I have ever experienced.

I hadn't killed anything, and yet I wasn't angry?

As I sat in a corner of the room provided for us to stay in for the night by the Pokemon Center, mulling it over, Damion was at a computer communicating with Aldemar. Dante flipped through a few channels on what I believe is a television, looking thoroughly bored with the available selection.

Aldemar and Damion chatted a bit about Norman and other Gyms. Aldemar agreed with Dante that Norman was far out of Damion's league. Together, the two of them worked out a map to follow that organized the Gyms in a challengeable manner. I believe that made the next destination Rustboro City. Finally, after working that out, Aldemar inquired of my progress.

Damion looked at me out of the corner of his eye and rested his chin on his hand. "I dunno . . . he's a mystery. It isn't so violent anymore—it isn't breaking down the walls or rampaging randomly anymore—but it sure isn't happy. It won't do a thing that I say! How am I supposed to win badges and be a great Trainer if I can't get Ray to listen?"

As upset as his grandson seemed, Aldemar didn't seem surprised in the slightest. "I expected this may happen."

". . . you _thought_ I'd _fail_?" Damion demanded.

"Damion, listen. What you just described to me is _exactly_ why I was skeptical when you brought Ray home, hoping to make it your starter. Dragon-types are _notorious_ for being difficult. It's what they're famous for, and also why they're so desirable. They are naturally proud, disagreeable, strong-willed creatures. One should never use one as a starter. But I trusted you and your judgment, and still do, which is why I was not so openly opposed to the idea."

"What do I do, then?" Damion said desperately.

"Listen carefully," Aldemar said seriously. "There is a ritual among dragon types. It's called The Challenge. If ever they decide that something is strong enough to be worthy of being their partner, they will instigate The Challenge. But _they must Challenge you_. At their own time, at their own pace, and when they have decided if you deserve it. If you challenge them, it's over."

"When will that happen, though?" Damion grumbled.

"It's not a matter of when it will happen, but rather, _what_ will happen. Damion, here is where you must listen carefully so you are not caught off-guard if it comes around."

I was still pondering about my strange emotions. _Why am I not angry? Why am I not angry? Why am I not—_

"You are speaking aloud, again."

I glared up at Pippo, wondering why he felt the need to eavesdrop on me. He was looking down at me distastefully from the bed, evidently still upset about the milkshake incident. "What are you 'not' angry about?"

"Why did that Trainer recall the Dustox earlier?" I demanded.

"You won. So he recalled it. Actually," Pippo reconsidered, "he was going to recall it because you won, but he ended up recalling it so you didn't eat it."

"But then I didn't . . . 'win'," I insisted. "I didn't _completely_ finish it. Isn't that failure?"

"No."

"What do you call it then?"

Pippo feigned deep thought and said sarcastically, "Sportsmanship?" He sighed and sat down on the bed when I was still confused, dropping his earlier frustration wtih me for the moment. "Tell me: why do you kill?"

At first I wasn't going to respond, deeming the subject my business and not his, but I was so puzzled and in need of an answer I found myself telling him. "To release rage and hate with power," I said, recalling the lust for the Dustox' life in the battle. "To get rid of some of it and find relief."

"Alright," Pippo said observantly. "But do you honestly find relief after killing? Or does it just make you feel worse afterwards? Two seconds of releasing your rage, but when that's done, you feel even more terrible than before."

I had never . . . not killed something when I'd meant to. And . . .

My breath caught in my throat and my glare at Pippo hardened. I glared at it, not because it was falsely accusing me . . . not because it was prodding at business that was not its own . . . not because it's chatter was useless and annoying me . . . but because I was . . . afraid.

This fear was different than what I had labeled to be fear of the Poke Ball. The Poke Ball, I simply didn't like and loathed with every fiber of my being. Maybe I feared it to some extent, but I could face the Poke Ball with dignity to some extent every time it recalled me. True fear was different. True fear was when it was difficult to the extreme to look something in the face, because if you did then it would become reality, rather than some figment of your imagination.

And I was afraid. I was afraid that he might be right. I was afraid to even think that he might be right, but I couldn't help thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he could really be right. But I had been releasing my rage, hatred—killing, destroying, sending to ruin and ashes—for _so long_. I had never thought about whether it was good or bad, whether it made _me_ feel good or bad, and had never cared. And now . . .

Now, I was confused.


	11. Apology

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series or any of its contents.**

* * *

I was still frustrated with my lack of understanding of what had occurred yesterday . . . my inability to reason with it. But not extensively so. This frustration did not lead to rage. It simply nagged and poked at my mind as a reminder of my want to find the answer. Rather than rage, it led to a curiosity so hungry for knowledge that trying to ponder the subject for even a minute brought on a swarm of emotions and thoughts that left me exhausted.

There was one word that Pippo had said last night that seemed like a good place to start searching for answers. A key to open the first door. _Sportsmanship_.

But what was it, _exactly_?

I suspected Pippo had an explanation, since he was the one to have brought it up. However, I did not like asking for help.

The desire for knowledge plagued me well into the morning. It grew with each passing minute while I tried to come up with what "sportsmanship" had to do with all this mess. I couldn't, but my pride was almost as powerful as my thirst for the answer, so I still refused to consult Pippo until Fate offered a hand and brought Pippo to _me_ instead.

I hardly noticed him approach my little corner of the room at first, I was so caught up in struggling to understand my own various thoughts and emotions. I was looking up out of the window, at the sky, as if all the answers to the world were written there. Pippo sat down a few feet away and stared at me. It seemed like it wanted to . . . observe me, or ask a question. Or both.

This was beyond annoying, and it didn't help that Pippo didn't seem to blink. The fact that Pippo had information that I didn't, and that I needed, didn't help matters either.

Finally, with a sigh, I moved my gaze from the sky to Pippo. It was time to temporarily shove the sky from my mind, and focus on the matters at hand. "What are you doing?" I asked moodily.

"Studying you." Now that it had my undivided attention, it said, "What exactly is that 'Challenge' the aged one spoke of last night?"

"Aldemar?" I yawned. "It's a test. A dragon Challenges a human if they find potential for it to be a worthy partner. The dragon has to be the one to issue the Challenge. If the human Challenges a dragon, they are deemed stupid, impatient, and wanting." I snorted. "A dragon would have to be completely idiotic to do such a thing; no human could possibly be worthy. They'll only betray the dragon's trust, especially if they think they can gain glory from doing so! Selfish creatures!" I spat.

Pippo ignored my rant for the most part and instead focused on a single word. "Does the dragon trust the human if it can complete the Challenge?"

I realized the mistake I'd made in my explanation. "No," I corrected hastily. "No. It's a way to be more accepting of its partner. Trust is different. I think. It would have to come with more time after that, if the dragon is ignorant enough to think a human actually is trustworthy."

Talking of such things made my stomach churn with uneasiness. Blaming Pippo for it, I was about to turn away when it asked a particularly unsettling question.

"Have you ever Challenged a human before?"

My expression settled into a steely death glare.

Pippo didn't acknowledge my glare and came to his own conclusion instead. "Well, of course not," he remedied, almost as if he was amused that he'd asked it. "What a silly question. You're too arrogant."

I opened my mouth to say "no" and add on to the ridiculousness of the question, but I found that I couldn't. Puzzled, I wondered why.

In my wondering, a memory came forth, but I couldn't see it. I couldn't read it. Why? Because it was black. It was a black memory, so awful and dark—full of betrayal and mistrust—that it seemed to repel me as I reached out to it so that I couldn't even seem to get my claws around it. I wasn't sure I wanted to. It slipped away.

"I don't know," I finished lamely.

Pippo studied me for a moment, still not blinking. Then it made to bound up onto the bed.

"Hey!" I barked, stopping it. "I gave you information. Now you give me information."

Pippo cast a sideways glance at me, startled as well as amused. "Very well." With a shrug, it sat down on the floor.

"What is sportsmanship?" I asked bluntly, once it was settled and listening.

I braced myself to see it smile or even laugh at my lack of understanding. I braced myself also to punish it for laughing at my expense if I felt it was necessary. Neither of these happened. Rather, I thought I saw a flash of pity, but I may have imagined it because it was gone in a fleeting second.

Pippo took so long to piece together an answer in his head that I began to doubt he would answer at all. Eventually, so much time had passed that I grunted and tapped my foot, hoping that he would catch the hint to hurry it up, but he was unaffected.

"It's chivalry," he said finally. "It's to be noble. It's respect not only for your power, but for your opponent's. Being able to show sportsmanship . . . well, it's a very noble thing indeed."

"But . . . what—?" I struggled, trying to come up with words to convey my thoughts.

"—did it have to do with your lack of anger yesterday?" Pippo finished.

"How did you know—" I demanded.

"—what you were thinking? I've been studying you for days. You're not at all as difficult to figure out as you think you are," Pippo said. Thoughtfully, he continued, "You had a taste of sportsmanship yesterday, whether you meant to or not. Sportsmanship doesn't spark anger. If anything, it counters it. It's about acceptance. It's _noble_. It brings on a good feeling." He studied me further, watching as I processed this information. I had listened attentively to every word, and he saw that. "There may be hope for you."

"What?"

"If you're so interested in sportsmanship, maybe you do have a sense of right and wrong. Probably not. The chances are very low. But anything's possible." Pippo tilted its head, unblinking. "You're the most arrogant creature I've ever met, but for some reason I think I'll help you."

"I don't need help," I grumbled.

"Of course not," Pippo mocked graciously. He bounded onto the bed and left me.

* * *

The room was dark and dimly lit, illuminated only by the dull lights on the ceiling. Shadows black as night filled every corner. This room was normally used for research or meetings and was filled with computers and desks. Now there was no one in it save for a man and, across the room from him, two women. The women were dressed in silver attire with black stripes. The man was dressed exactly the opposite, with black attire and silver stripes. They were arguing.

He was tall and thin and had white hair, though he wasn't old at all. In fact, he was only in his mid-twenties, but he appeared much, much older. The years had not been kind. He was worn, but it was etched in every line of his face that he had a purpose, a drive. From the looks of him, that drive was the only thing keeping him alive, but at a cost. It had driven him mad.

"You tried to capture it?" he was screaming.

"Yes, sir, Vrono, we did," Umi said.

Vrono gave a shout that echoed through the room and overturned the nearest desk with a blow of his boot. He paced rapidly back and forth, seething. "Never did I dream of the day that an officer lower in rank than another would dream of disobeying their superior. This is unacceptable."

The women didn't say a word. Their faces were hidden in the shadows.

"You two must be severely punished."

Reddi spoke. "But it's Rayquaza. It's one of the most powerful Pokemon on Earth. What use would it be if we killed it? Think how useful it's power could be."

"That doesn't matter!"

Vrono slammed his fist into the wall, producing a loud _clang_ that reverberated throughout the room. He looked up, his eyes nearly lifeless in his skull except for the vicious light of his anger.

"What matters," he whispered treacherously, "is that you two disobeyed direct orders from me, a higher rank than you. You must go to the Vault. There is no place for traitors except for that."

Although still hidden by the shadows, the smallest sign of a smirk flashed across Reddi's face.

"I told you," Vrono said, his voice trembling with a wide range of emotions, "I told you, specifically, to hunt down Rayquaza. I told you to find it, and kill it, and make its death as slow and painful as possible. I told you to do that, and not to come back until you brought its head for me to hang upon my wall!"

His voice had again risen to a scream by the end of this, but he was interrupted by a deeper, more authoritative voice.

"Those may have been your orders, Vrono, but they were _not_ _mine_."

Both Reddi and Umi stepped out of the shadows and Vrono saw their smirks and the deceit in their eyes. He whirled around to find the source of the new voice and saw a larger, broad-shouldered man standing in a doorway at the top of a flight of stairs. The man had cold eyes and a grim smile. Under his arm was an ancient book bound of leather.

"Lord Kubor!" Vrono gasped.

"I thought you might disobey my orders, Vrono. You are a remarkable agent, but unfortunately, you have a mind of your own. I can't have that. I took it into my _own_ hands to see that Reddi and Umi were equipped with my orders, not yours."

Reddi couldn't contain a high, cruel laugh. "It looks like you will be the one to go to the Vault, Vrono. Not us."

Vrono showed no emotion. He clenched his fists, unclenched them, and let them hang loosely, in temporary defeat. At a signal from Kubor, several men dressed in black came forward as if from nowhere and seized him, and dragged him out of sight. He would go to the Vault—their form of jail—as punishment for his betrayal.

With Vrono gone, Kubor descended the steps. All the way, he was stroking the book. He always stroked the book. It never left his side. It was the key to what he was searching for: a great power.

He stopped several yards away from Reddi and Umi. "My orders were to capture Rayquaza. Vrono's were to kill it. I see you have done neither," he said disapprovingly.

"We tried, sir," Umi said regretfully. "We used all of that new equipment. It nearly worked, but Rayquaza executed a Hyper Beam on the mechanism. We lost control and it was too much for both the machine and Rayquaza."

"The remarkable thing, though," Reddi cut in quickly, "is that it didn't seem to _die_. It . . . it transformed. It's a Bagon now. A Bagon, with a yellow ring on its belly." She drew a ring in the air on her own belly for emphasis.

"How intriguing," Kubor said in disappointment, though he didn't seem to find it intriguing at all. "Did you still pursue it?"

"It pursued us, actually," Umi said. "We tried to capture it again, but we were stopped by a bo—"

"—body of water," Reddi cut in, with a warning glance at Umi. If Kubor knew they had been stopped by a young boy, however powerful his Swellow had been, their rankings would be ripped from them. "There was a storm and it rained. We tried our best, but it got away. We're not quite sure where it is now."

She wasn't sure that she had fooled Kubor. It didn't look it.

"I see . . ." he said slowly.

"We can—we can still look for it, though," Reddi offered eagerly. "It's still Rayquaza even if it's in a different body. Isn't it? We were near Oldale. It may be around there somewhere still."

Kubor shook his head and fingered the binding of the book. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. Rayquaza would not be able serve the purpose I have in mind anyway, because it does not have an Orb. I thought it might be pursuing despite that, but now that it isn't even in its own form, it is of no use to me. Still," he added thoughtfully, "keep an eye on it. I won't forget about it entirely. For now . . ."

He righted the desk that had been overturned by Vrono moments before and gently laid the leather-bound book upon it. With light, caressing fingers, he let the pages fall on one with hand-painted pictures of particular detail.

On one page was a blue leviathan. It had no definite shape and was hidden by the water in which it resided, but there was no betraying its magnificence. Below it was a beautiful, glowing blue orb that looked almost like a pearl.

On the other page was a fantastic behemoth, as tall as the mountains painted around it. It, too, had no definite shape, but it was mighty and fearsome despite this fact. Below it was a shining red orb as brilliant as the sun.

Kubor's eyes had lit up at the sight of the picture. They burned like fire now, as he gazed at it. "We must focus our research now on locating the Blue and Red Orbs," he said hungrily. "And after that, the location of the great beasts of sea and land. Kyogre and Groudon. 'Only when they are bound may the Treasure be found'," he quoted from the book, a single line out of thousands of the legend.

Reddi was disheartened at first at the prospect of leaving Rayquaza behind. But the ferocious light in her leader's eyes was contagious. She and Umi awaited his word eagerly.

Kubor gave them their orders. They disappeared into the shadows. After a final look at the book, flipping through its hundreds of pages even though he had the thing memorized, so did he.

* * *

Damion had stubbornly dragged us all around the city in search of Sam, seeking the boy out in order to apologize. By the time we actually did find him, we were exhausted, our feet were sore, and Damion must have ignored a hundred pleas, spoken aloud or silent, to give up on the search since there was a good chance Sam had already left the city or wouldn't be found. Damion was firm. He wouldn't rest until Sam was found; even when we stopped for breaks to sit down on whatever bench we could find, Damion would go on ahead and come back for us in a few minutes or so.

Finally his efforts paid off, and we found Sam in one of the city's parks. Damion offered an apology to the best of his ability. Sam didn't seem happy to see him again, but he listened and accepted the apology without much enthusiasm. Pippo urged me to do the same to Dusty, who was sitting on Sam's shoulder, as an act of sportsmanship.

"No," I said icily. "Why should I?"

"Because your arrogance is annoying," Pippo said simply. "After studying you, I've come to the conclusion that swallowing your pride and apologizing can't hurt. Besides, you owe it to Dusty."

"What! I owe nothing to it, and I won't apologize."

"But its sportsmanship," Pippo reminded me. "Besides," it added with a sour tone, "you could use some humility. At least try to be humble."

_Humble_.

I chewed on my lip, my heart pounding.

"I hate you," I bit out to Pippo.

"And I you," Pippo returned simply.

I looked up at Dusty, who was looking at me expectantly, having probably heard the whole exchange. Clearing my throat, I swallowed my pride to the absolute best of my ability. Preparing myself to do this was one of the most difficult challenges I had ever faced. I opened my mouth to say the words.

Halfway through the breath, my head turned slightly, involuntarily to the left, then to the right, in protest. "I can't do it," I exhaled, relieved.

"Ah, well," Pippo said next to me, "perhaps that was a tad too drastic."

"Just don't battle with _that_ again until you can control it," Sam said coldly, pointing at me.

Damion cast a glance down at me out of the corner of his eye, following Sam's accusing hand. He choked back something he was going to say to Sam, and nodded stiffly. Sam didn't seem to want anything more to do with us and returned to the park, where he had been playing with Dusty.

Damion watched them for a moment. "I've got to respect that kid for the relationship he has with his Pokemon." He turned away and we began to walk back to the Pokemon Center. "But I'd appreciate it if he wasn't so harsh to mine."

"Ray tried to kill his Pokemon," Dante reminded. "I think he has right to be harsh."

"Well, harsh, sure." He frowned. "But . . ."

"I dunno if you get it. Ray tried to _kill_ his Pokemon."

"Of course I get it," Damion said seriously. "I get it more than you know. I thought about it last night a lot. I haven't decided yet, but . . .

"I'm seriously considering staying in Petalburg until Ray and I have a better relationship."


End file.
